The Unfixables
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfill forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance. NOT an arranged marriage fic. Warnings enclosed within. COMPLETE!
1. The Release

**A.N** : So, if you've read the Unfixables before, you might want to read this instead, as it is a complete rewrite of the previous multichap. There will be more added, some taken away, and of course all problems and errors removed and revised.

There are some canon changes, so anything that you might be unsure about has most likely been deliberately changed. One of these is Barty's age.

Just a note to any new readers - this is **_NOT_** an arranged marriage fic. Some similarities are there, but that's not the concept.

This is set postHogwarts, immediately after her seventh year.

 **If you enjoy this, please check out my tumblr account, where I will be posting spoilers and aesthetics for the Unfixables :) My username there is screaming-fae.**

Warnings: Violence, swearing, mental-health issues and suicidal intention, sexual themes.

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfill forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

 _It was unbelievable,  
They were never meant to be.  
_ _He was broken, wrecked, and utterly unfixable.  
_ _It was traitorous - against everything she ever stood for.  
_ _How could she fall for someone,  
_ _Who was such an imminent figure of death?_

 _But then,  
_ _Her sunshine and strangeness enticed him,  
_ _Wrapped him, blessed him, nourished him.  
_ _Slowly, he would begin to grow again,  
_ _The unfixable,  
_ _Would become fixed._

oOo

"I don't think there's any other way we can avoid it."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was sitting at an enormous round table at the Ministry of Magic, with a large number of his officials around him. They were here to finalise a decision that had been under heated discussion for the last five weeks, and Kingsley hadn't been this nervous since Voldemort was on the rise.

Even though the Dark Days were over, there was still a major problem to consider. Yes, people were rising from the depths of their greatest fears, moving on with their lives, creating a new generation of children, and generally making their lives worth living. It was great that the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of Voldemort had resulted in all of the dark wizards and their followers being killed or confined to Azkaban, but it left the wizarding World with a new dilemma.

A lot of heirs to prestigious, Pureblood lineages had died out after producing no offspring to continue on with their bloodlines. This left the Ministry facing a new fear _-_ one that had the potential to be almost as worrying as the late Dark Lord. Now that pure-blood wizards were becoming sparse in comparison to Half-bloods and Muggle borns, and far too many wizards and witches were choosing to marry Muggles, often producing Muggle children, the Ministry was forced to accept that the wizarding race might die out a lot sooner than they had anticipated.

At first, Kingsley thought that the wizard who came over from Bulgaria to discuss this epidemic was crazy. It was ridiculous - there were still plenty of Half-bloods and Muggle-borns, and surely those witches and wizards who chose to marry Muggles should still have a high chance of further producing magic children? But after listening to what he had to say, the fear began to settle in Kingsley's stomach. It was true - the continuous breeding with Muggles would eventually lead to the wizarding race dying out altogether. Sure enough, it might be quite far into the future that this would happen, but it was enough of a shock to cause the Ministry to demand that immediate action was taken.

The first decision they made was to compile a list of all the Pureblood witches and wizards in England. However, the problem this left the Ministry with was that the majority of the offspring from Pureblood families were either dead or in Azkaban.

Kingsley had a choice to make. He could either allow life to continue as it was, and let the Ministry in future decades decide where to go with this problem, or he could take action now. A handful of members of the inner circle who were discussing this problem threw out the suggestion of arranging marriages between Pureblood wizards, in order to force a new generation of Purebloods that could set the future generations straight, but Kingsley refused this idea immediately. Arranged marriages seemed far too much of a medieval concept, and Kingsley didn't want to upset the wizards of Britain, or cause unnecessary conflict.

But, they needed more Pureblood wizards. Even though the wizarding race in Britain was now mostly equal towards Muggles and Muggle-borns alike, they needed pure-bloods to procreate and secure the future of their race.

So Kingsley finally agreed to a decision _—_ albeit, an extremely stupid decision _—_ but the only one that seemed controllable.

They would give some prisoners of Azkaban a 'second chance'.

It was a one time offer. Death Eaters who remained alive after Voldemort's downfall and criminals who were imprisoned for their own crimes were to be emptied from their cells and filtered back into Britain. Their task simply being to integrate themselves back into normal society, find themselves a respectable job, and marry a witch or wizard, with the intention of producing more witches and wizards.

They had a whole new chance to completely reform their lives. If even the slightest hints arose that the prisoners had ruined their opportunity to be a part of the wizarding world again, they would be swept back to Azkaban without a trial.

It sounded so simple and easy when Kingsley heard other Ministry officials spouting off this suggestion. It would benefit the wizarding world if the Pureblood prisoners would marry and have children, but it would also benefit the prisoners, as they were being given another shot at a life worth living.

"I don't think there's any way we can avoid it," Kingsley repeated to his board of officials. He reached for the sheet of parchment which explained this new law, along with all the measures they would take to prevent any problems and mishaps that the prisoners could cause once they were released. "I accept the terms of the new agreement. The selected prisoners will be released and integrated immediately back into society, with Ministry approved care and supervision," he reached for his quill - a large, fine peacock feather - and signed his name at the bottom of the parchment with an elaborate flourish.

oOo

The Daily Prophet naturally released an enormous, multi-page article about this new agreement, which sent the majority of the wizards of Britain into a widespread panic.

As far as the people were concerned, they had been living the last couple of years in utter bliss. They had no fears or problems from Death Eaters or Voldemort, due to the confinement that Azkaban served, and now the Ministry were releasing the inmates like a plague of rats back into their world - the world that they had so carefully rebuilt after Voldemort had torn it down?

Some extremists questioned if Voldemort was really dead, or if the Ministry was still under his control. Theories sparked across the nation; headlines featuring every local wizarding newspaper and becoming the topic of most flustered conversations. Was the world going to return to the previous crisis? Was a new, more insidious character lurking beneath the many layers of the Ministry, ready to strike with its army of released inmates when the innocent people of Britain were least expecting it?

Nobody seemed to be willing to accept that the Ministry were simply offering the prisoners a chance to reform themselves and develop new lives. The Prophet released statements and images of every released inmate, and familiar names began to spark fear across Britain. Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Pius Thicknesse, who had been imprisoned despite being under the Imperius Curse during Voldemort's reign, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Stan Shunpike, and Bartemius Crouch Jr. There were many more released, but these were the only names to grace the pages of the Prophet, due to probably being more memorable to the readers.

The inmate who shocked the nation the most, naturally, was Bartemius Crouch. The Prophet had told Britain in 1995 that Crouch had received the Dementor's Kiss after he was discovered to be impersonating the late Alastor Moody, rigging the Triwizard Cup with a Portkey charm to send Harry Potter to a graveyard in Little Hangleton, and particularly assisting in the rise of Lord Voldemort (though of course, this particular part wasn't released until Cornelius Fudge saw the resurrected Voldemort for himself). Bartemius receiving the Dementor's Kiss had turned out to be an elaborate lie, admitted by the Prophet shortly before his statement was released. They had allowed Britain to believe a dangerous lie, just so that the witches and wizards would believe they were sleeping safely in their beds.

The confession to this lie was just another event that caused uproar amongst the witches and wizards. Not only had the Ministry made the ridiculous decision to release someone who had committed as many crimes as Bartemius had, but they had also lied to the people they were supposed to be protecting and governing.

Unfortunately, there was nothing that the witches and wizards could do other than read the sickeningly false statement that was typed underneath a slightly maniacal picture of Bartemius Crouch Jr.

 _"I, Bartemius Crouch Jr, have answered for my crimes committed against the wizarding world. I desperately hope that you will accept me into your lives as another member of your society, as I desperately want this second chance at a life worth living. I regret every terrible thing I have ever done; every person I have maimed or killed, and I hope that I can prove this to you all._

 _Sincerely, Bartemius Crouch Jr."_

oOo

Somewhere much further South, in a house that was shaped oddly like a rock, Xenophilius Lovegood had just dropped his newspaper in shock. He ran from his house to the river where he knew his daughter would be sitting, leaving the newspaper open and featuring the shuddering black and white image of Barty Crouch Jr.


	2. A Sacred Vow

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

Chapter Notes: I never managed to find out Xeno's date of birth, so I have altered canon here and assuming him to be a student during this chapter.

* * *

oOo

As Xenophilius Lovegood rushed down the grassy bank to the riverside, he felt a flood of memories washing through his mind.

The sixties was a period that Xenophilius preferred to block out. It was a frivolous decade, even in the magical community. Everything revolved around blood purity, and fixing the loose ends that some families had to deal with.

Xenophilius himself had committed an atrocity that a particular pure-blood family were devastated about. He engaged in the worst kind of sin that more prestigious families held higher than any other.

oOo

 _1962_

Xenophilius was quite the charming student while he was receiving an education at Hogwarts. With his thick expanse of white blond hair, piercing, sparkling blue eyes, and his aura of strangeness, he was unusually popular with the girls at school. However, Xenophilius was far too busy studying for his Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology NEWTs to have time for girlfriends.

That was until he spotted her.

Her name was Poppy Crouch, and she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. At sixteen, she was in the year below him, but she stood out from all the others in her age group. She had a shock of shoulder length, thick black hair, which she frequently scraped back into a ribbon, leaving curly tendrils hanging around her friendly, round face. Her eyes were a deep, glittering green, and Xenophilius felt like he was staring right into her very soul when he looked into them.

Poppy was quite lonely. She was in Ravenclaw, but she didn't have many friends, choosing instead to spend most of her free time studying in the library. It wasn't long before Xenophilius started to interact with her, and it was probably the worst choice he ever made.

For the whole first term before the Christmas holidays, Xenophilius and Poppy engaged in an exclusive relationship. What Xenophilius didn't know, however, was that Poppy's mother Charis, a daughter of the prestigious Black family, was planning on marrying Poppy to one of her cousins.

Unbeknownst to Xenophilius, Poppy had been writing to her elder brother Barty all about her new boyfriend. Pompous Barty went straight to his parents to tell them what Poppy had been doing at school, and the younger girl was pulled straight out of school.

But it didn't end there.

As Xenophilius was a Half-blood wizard and not pure, Charis simply could not accept that these relations had happened. He had taken her daughter's virginity, and as far as she was concerned, that meant that the two of them should be married - but there was no way that Charis was ever going to let a daughter of hers marry a Half-blood wizard.

So, Charis Crouch decided to condemn Xenophilius to death for the crime of tainting her daughter. She assured him, via a howler, that she would be waiting at King's Cross station when he left school for the summer to duel him - and she was determined to end his life. She was an elderly lady, but Xenophilius's friends warned him that Charis Crouch was renowned for being a legendary dueller, and nothing would please her more than seeing the life leave Xenophilius's eyes.

Xenophilius dreaded the end of term approaching, but when he crossed the barrier at King's Cross, there was no crazy old lady waiting. Instead, there was a crazy old man, standing alongside Poppy's older brother Barty, and a sandy-haired female who was clutching her swollen stomach. They were staring right over at Xenophilius, and any elation that he had felt when realising Charis Crouch wasn't there to murder him vanished.

The old man - who was decked in a pinstripe three piece suit - reached up and grabbed Xenophilius by the scruff of the neck once he emerged from the barrier. Xenophilius tried to look calm, but the man had a demented, terrifying look in his eye. Barty Crouch and the blonde woman did nothing to stop the old man's attack, but a couple of Muggles gave them pointed looks.

"I suppose you're wondering where my wife is?" Mr Crouch asked. "Answer me, boy."

Xenophilius nodded, trying not to appear frantic. Mr Crouch was spraying his face with spittle, and frankly he was quite afraid.

"I suppose you should count yourself lucky," Mr Crouch continued. "My wife is dead. Do you want to know how she died, boy?"

"Father, I don't think we should do this here," Barty's haughty voice sounded airy. He was patting the pregnant woman comfortingly on the arm, and giving Mr Crouch a stern look.

"Very well," Mr Crouch replied, and slackened his grip on Xenophilius. "In that case..."

Suddenly, there was a pop, and Xenophilius felt himself being sucked into the familiar, unpleasant sensation of side-along apparition. There was a blur of swirling colours, and bile rose in his throat. Before he could vomit, however, he felt his feet land on the ground again.

Mr Crouch had apparated them into a murky, dimly lit office. There were several shelves of dusty looking books around the room, and the only window was covered with heavy, dark curtains. Looking around, Xenophilius noticed Barty lowering the pregnant woman into a padded chair in the corner of the room, and the old man walked around a large, oak desk, sitting himself behind it.

He sighed when he leaned back against the chair, and pressed his bony fingertips together. "My wife went mad with rage," he confessed, his eyes glimmering darkly.

Xenophilius swallowed. "I'm sorry to hear that," he finally replied in a small voice.

"Do you know what happened to Poppy after we removed her from Hogwarts, boy?" Mr Crouch asked. Xenophilius shook his head, averting his gaze to the plush, dark crimson carpet. "She ran," Mr Crouch continued. "She eloped with a Muggle boy from the Muggle village of Seaford. My wife couldn't abide the fact that our own daughter, who we raised and cherished, would abandon us and our morals _—_ so she died of a broken heart."

Xenophilius doubted very much that the crazy old woman who threatened to murder him, just for having a relationship with her daughter, was possible of having a broken heart, but he chose not to challenge this.

"Charis had one last request before she died," Mr Crouch continued. Xenophilius heard Barty fidgeting behind him, and the sound of paper rustling. He looked up, and saw Mr Crouch leaning back in his chair, removing his wand from his pocket.

Xenophilius felt bile rising in his throat once more, just like he had during the apparition. This was it. He was going to die. He wasn't going to grow up, get married, have children - all because he had made the stupid mistake to think with his nether regions instead of his brain. He screwed his eyes up, awaiting the inevitable.

But it never came. Instead, Mr Crouch continued talking. "She told me to make you pay for what you did to Poppy. But I'm not going to kill you."

Xenophilius opened his eyes, looking directly at Mr Crouch for the first time since he'd seen him at King's Cross. "You're not?"

"No. I happen to think our daughter was a frightful child. She was asking to be abjured from our family since she was younger. All the signs were there that she was going to make the wrong choices. But nevertheless, Charis adored her. And I loved Charis with every beat of my heart. Whatever wishes she had, I would comply with. Unfortunately, you have been the bane of her life since you...since you..." he paused, and grit his teeth, closing his eyes briefly. "No. I'm not going to kill you. Killing you would be too easy."

Xenophilius breathed out in relief, but then he caught another glimpse of Mr Crouch's face. He was smiling _—_ but it was a cruel smile. Xenophilius' stomach sank.

"Hold out your hand," he demanded, holding out his palm. Xenophilius arched his eyebrows suspiciously.

"Why?" he asked.

"You are going to make the Unbreakable Vow with me."

"What if I refuse?" Xenophilius challenged warily. Mr Crouch stared at him stoically, but his snarl widened.

"That isn't an option. If you run, you will die. If you try anything stupid, you will die. I have a lot of power within the Ministry, Mr Lovegood. I can have you murdered, or locked up in Azkaban for the remainder of your days. You make the choice."

Barty suddenly swooped over towards the table, his thick moustache twitching. He reached for his own wand, and nodded. Mr Crouch grabbed Xenophilius's hand roughly, clasping their fingers in a vice-like grip.

"Wait," Xenophilius began, his nervousness evident in his shaky voice. An Unbreakable Vow usually required a promise of some sort. What was Mr Crouch going to make him promise? "Surely this isn't necessary. Can't we just talk this over?"

There was a menacing glint in Mr Crouch's eye. "Believe me, Mr Lovegood. The Unbreakable Vow is needed. Do you want to lose your life?"

Xenophilius's heart did a flip. "No," he admitted quietly.

"So I thought," Mr Crouch continued. "Bartemius, you may proceed."

Barty waved his wand with a flourish, and Mr Crouch began to speak. "Do you, Xenophilius Lovegood, promise to do exactly what I tell you after this given moment?"

Xenophilius took a breath. "I will," he replied. A single stream of golden yellow light poured from the tip of Barty's wand and spiralled around Xenophilius and Mr Crouch's entwined hands.

"Will you, Xenophilius Lovegood, should you have one, promise to hand over your first born daughter to my unborn grandson, when she comes of age?"

When he said this, Barty glanced over to the pregnant woman in the corner, who was rubbing her stomach. She didn't look very happy at this prospect.

"I _—_ _what?_ " screeched Xenophilius suddenly. Was this man _crazy_? This wasn't the sixteenth century. People weren't objectified like that any more, and handed around as if they were merely possessions. Panic began to rise in his body. This was much worse than he had anticipated.

Mr Crouch pursed his lips, staring pointedly at the single stream of light that was already encasing their hands, and then repeated the request. "Will you, Xenophilius Lovegood, should you have one, promise to hand over your first born daughter to my unborn grandson, when she comes of age?"

Xenophilius looked down at the glimmering light. Mr Crouch was a lot craftier than Xenophilius thought. He had already made Xenophilius promise to do whatever he told him to, so now he couldn't get out of it. If he pulled his hand away now and broke the promise to do whatever Mr Crouch told him to do, he would die. He could only hope and pray that he would perhaps only create bouncing baby boys. "I will," he murmured in response, feeling trapped. A lump formed in his throat as a second stream of light flowed from the wand and entwined with the first one.

"And will you, Xenophilius Lovegood, promise to never tell your daughter, should you have one, about this arrangement until she comes of age?"

"I will," answered Xenophilius. The third stream of light emerged from Barty's wand and fastened tight to the other two, forming a strong, braided rope. It held fast for a few moments, before fading away slowly. When Xenophilius let go of Mr Crouch's hand, he still felt as though he had a glowing shackle on his wrist.

"What does this mean?" Xenophilius asked, resentment for the old man evident in his eyes. "Will a daughter of mine have to _marry_ your grandson?"

"Oh, heavens no," Mr Crouch replied, a smirk growing on his face. "The Vow simply states that you must hand over your daughter to Barty's son as soon as she becomes old enough. He is then free to do with her as he pleases," he paused, and his smirk widened. "Perhaps he will ruin her, as you did my daughter."

Xenophilius looked over at Barty Crouch, feeling desperate. He had edged over to the the pregnant woman _—_ who Xenophilius was beginning to realise was probably ready to give birth to the child he would possibly be forced to hand a daughter over to _—_ and was stroking the back of her head soothingly. "Barty, you can't possibly agree with this. It's barbaric. It's medieval, for God's sake!"

"You should have thought about your actions before you acted," Barty replied stiffly. He didn't look like he wholly agreed with the vow, and his sandy-haired wife definitely didn't look sure. But neither of them appeared to be ready to challenge Mr Crouch. "You should leave, now."

"Goodbye, Mr Lovegood," Mr Crouch bade him airily. "Perhaps we will meet sometime in the future. I will send you an owl when Barty's son has been born!"

oOo

Two months later, true to his word, Xenophilius received an unsigned package. All that was enclosed was a single, moving black and white picture of a scowling baby, with the name and date of birth inscribed across the image. Bartemius Crouch Junior had been born healthily, and all the family were thrilled.


	3. Stamford Jorkins & The Envelope

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

Luna smiled, slightly bemused, as her her father raced down the hill towards her. His white robes and snowy hair billowed around him, and he had a frantic look on his face. Luna wondered absently if she should have been a little more worried, but she was already so used to her father racing out of the house, desperate to tell her about an experiment or theory that had gone wrong. She watched him for a while, and then returned to what she had been doing previously; plucking dainty yellow wildflowers from a thick patch of grass that she had found.

"Luna! Luna, my darling," her father called. He slowed down as he neared her, and swept her up into his arms in all but a rib-crushing embrace. "You're okay."

"Of course I am," Luna replied, feeling vaguely miffed about the flowers that had just been crushed during the hug. She made a mental note to pluck some more later, but for now she needed to focus on her father. He was clearly distressed about something, and that was Luna's priority. "Daddy, what's happened?"

"You need to come inside right away," Xenophilius told her. He released her from the embrace, and stared into her eyes, grasping her shoulders gently. There was an unusual, sombre look on his face. "We need to talk."

oOo

"Mr Crouch, what happened when they said you received the Dementor's Kiss?"

"Is it true that you sent the Boy Who Lived to Voldemort when he was only _fourteen_?"

"Why did the Ministry lie about the fate that was planned for you? You were supposed to rot in Azkaban with no soul for what you did to the Longbottoms, you son of a bitch!"

"Crouch, are you planning on living a normal life, or is the media going to learn that you've been up to your old torturing tricks again?"

There were cameras flashing from every angle. The crowd outside the entrance that the Ministry of Magic had opened specifically for the arrival of the released prisoners was bustling with an enormous flock of cloaked wizards, pushing and shoving each other out of the way, desperate to try make their voices heard.

Barty was surrounded by three Aurors, two of whom were clutching his upper arms, and one standing behind him, prodding his wand into his back. Even though Barty was supposed to be being released, he couldn't help but feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Finally, they reached the doorway to what appeared to be an abandoned tourists office. Through the cracked window, Barty could see broken shelves, still holding various brochures and leaflets depicting images of famous monuments in London.

One of the Aurors released Barty's arm and pointed their wand at the rusty lock. _"Alohamora,"_ he murmured, and the lock clicked. He pushed the door open, brushing away a copious amount of peeling blue paint that crackled off the door when it moved.

The inside of the tourists office looked nothing like it did through the window, naturally. The only thing that was inside the office was a single, red-bricked fireplace, and a large jar of vibrant Floo powder sitting on it's mantle. However, the Aurors didn't lead Barty straight into the fireplace. Instead, one of them reached into the pocket of his robes and removed a gleaming yellow leaflet, thrusting it to Barty.

"What is this?" Barty asked. "Why aren't we going in?"

"All of the ex-prisoners have to go through this procedure," the Auror replied lamely. He had clearly already explained this several times before to the previous prisoners that had been brought in. "Before we can take you inside the Ministry, you need to read through that pamphlet and make sure you fully understand why we are bringing you here first, and adhere to the rules that will make your rehabilitation to society a much easier transition."

Barty refrained the urge to roll his eyes dramatically, choosing instead sigh, and begin reading through the leaflet.

" **The Ministry of Magic and**

 **Your Transition to a Stable Society**

 _An introduction to your release from Azkaban Prison and what help you can expect from us here at the Ministry._

 _Of course, we want you to be as comfortable and happy as you can be once you re-enter the general wizarding public, but it is extremely important that you follow our rules. This is to ensure that you, and any companions you may have, are kept safe at all times._

 _You will spend the majority of your first released day at the Ministry of Magic, where you will be subject to a number of various tests. These will include a physical and mental health test, tests on your general intellect so that we can see what is the best option of work for you, and tests on your wands (which will be returned to you once you leave the Ministry today)._

 _Please now read the rules of your release, and once you have done so, confirm to the Aurors that are accompanying you today that you are happy to continue with your transition._

 **Rules**

 _1\. You must acquire a job (minimum 40 hours per week) within three weeks from this date, or you will face Ministry action. It is our duty to get you into a stable working environment in order to keep you occupied on a daily basis._

 _2\. An Irremovable Detection Trace will be placed on you before you leave the Ministry today. This is so that we know where you are located should anything go wrong with your transition._

 _3\. You are on a strict curfew. You must return to your homes by 11pm every night, and not leave again until 7am in the morning._

 _4\. Your wand will also be Traced before it is returned to your possession. It will automatically detect any Unforgivable Curses or uses of dark magic, and notify us here at the Ministry._

 _The violation of any of the above rules will lead to your immediate return to Azkaban. If you do anything to jeopardise your position in society, you will not be given a trial, simply returned to Azkaban._ "

Barty read over the rules a couple of times, his lip curling at them. He didn't like the idea of himself or his wand being Traced, nor did he enjoy the prospect of being kept on a curfew, unable to leave the house after eleven p.m. However, the thought of living a life outside of the cold, stone walls of Azkaban was worth putting up with a bunch of crummy rules.

"I accept the rules," he muttered, handing the Auror the leaflet back.

The Auror gave him a lopsided smirk. "You can keep that. I dare say you might need a reminder of the rules." Before Barty could respond, the Auror had turned to the fireplace and was digging his fingers into the bowl of Floo Powder. He stepped into the fireplace, and gestured for Barty to join him. "You're coming down with me. The other two will follow."

Barty couldn't help but roll his eyes this time, as he was forced to squeeze into the small fireplace with the Auror, who threw the pile of Floo Powder to the ground almost immediately. "The Atrium!" he shouted clearly, and Barty was immediately sucked down a shoot of what felt like a thousand chimneys.

Moments later, Barty was being dragged roughly through the Atrium. He barely had time to take in the mesmerising view, before he was pulled past the enormous golden fountain, and parked in front of a lift, where numerous other people were waiting. Despite his own father having worked within the Ministry for all of his career, Barty had only been inside a handful of times. He hadn't really taken much notice to the interior.

However, he couldn't really admire it for long. He found that he was incredibly distracted by the people around him. Everywhere he glanced, he was making awkward eye contact with someone. When finally he caught the eye of a short, chubby witch dressed entirely in lilac whispering to her equally squat friend, he couldn't take it anymore. "What the hell are you looking at?" he spat venomously, shooting her a deathly glare.

As if he had just tried to strike the witch, two of the Aurors accompanying him jabbed their wands roughly into his back, sending shooting pains up and down his spine, and the third tightened his grip on Barty's shoulder and lowered his head. "Watch it, Crouch," he hissed, his breath feeling uncomfortably hot on Barty's ear.

The steel corrugate doors to the lift snapped open, and Barty was shoved roughly inside. The two witches who had been whispering to one another decided to wait for the next one, and Barty was inwardly glad. He didn't think he could keep his temper down if he was forced to spend any more time around those two.

Luckily, he wasn't in the cramped lift for very long. Within a few minutes, he was being removed from the lift and ushered down a long, straight corridor. Numerous doors led off to different places, but Barty gathered that they were aiming for the one right at the very end. When they reached it, he noticed that the plaque on the door read _Administrative Registration Department._

The Aurors led Barty inside and to the front desk. A pretty receptionist sat behind the desk, wearing her dark auburn hair tied up on top of her head in a messy bun. She was reading a sheet of parchment studiously, her dark eyes shooting back and forth. She seemed unaware that the Aurors and Barty had even arrived, until one of his escorts rapped their fist heavily on the wooden desk.

She looked up frantically, her eyes widening at the sight of Barty. "Y-yes, sorry," she apologised. She rotated in her desk chair and retrieved her wand from a tray behind her, before pointing it to her throat. Suddenly, her voice echoed around the reception, as if she were speaking through a megaphone.

"Stamford Jorkins to reception please, Stamford Jorkins," she alerted, before removing the wand. She smiled falsely at the Aurors, avoiding Barty's eye, and returned to reading her parchment.

There was the distinct sound of feet thundering from the door behind her, and it swung open moments after. A short, balding Ministry official entered the reception, puffing and panting, his round face glowing red. He nodded at the Aurors in greeting. "Thank you, gentlemen. I can take Bartemius from here."

The Aurors reluctantly removed their grip from Barty, and bade the balding man and the receptionist goodbye. "My name is Stamford Jorkins, pleased to meet you," Stamford greeted, crossing by the wooden desk to shake Barty's hand. Barty felt slightly repulsed as his palm made contact with Stamfords slightly sweaty one, and made an attempt to wipe his hand on his trousers as soon as Stamford released him. "Come along, follow me."

Feeling slightly less like a prisoner now that the three Aurors were not towing him along, Barty followed Stamford down another long corridor with several doors on either side. When they reached what Barty assumed to be Stamford's office, he looked around, sneering inwardly.

It really was a pathetic little office. The whole room was painted a dirty shade of magnolia, and most of the paint was peeling or damp in the corners. The only furniture that the room held was a small wooden desk, which was littered untidily with parchment and office supplies, a lopsided bookshelf against the far wall, a battered, metal filing cabinet in the corner, and a large, scenic painting on another wall. Barty assumed that the painting was there to make up for the fact that there wasn't actually a window.

It was entirely depressing, and Barty was only thankful that he didn't have to work there.

Stamford gestured to a wooden seat in front of the desk, and Barty sat down in it compliantly. Stamford sat behind the desk, and reached amongst the flurry of items for a form. Barty noticed his full name printed neatly at the top, but he couldn't make out the other sentences that were written. Stamford dipped a dark feather quill into a pot of ink, and began to speak.

"You are aware of your current standing position, am I correct?"

Barty raised his eyebrows at the shiny balding spot on Stamford's head. "No. No, I'm not aware.

Stamford released a long, heavy sigh, and then scrawled something on the parchment. "You are hereby released from Azkaban prison."

"But why?" Barty asked.

"You were told why upon your release. We are blessing some inmates with the opportunity to rehabilitate themselves into society."

"I don't believe that's the reason," Barty replied. He had always been fairly smart, and it hadn't taken him long to start piecing together multiple theories for why the Ministry had released them.

Stamford stared mildly at Barty for a while before responding. "Whether or not you believe it is not mandatory," he sighed, "the Minister and his trusted circle of governors have decided on this action, so this is what we are doing. May I continue?"

With a small roll of his eyes, Barty nodded, and Stamford cleared his throat.

"Due to the nature of your crimes, you are required to receive a minimum of six months extra security, but this may increase if you do not show any improvements."

" _Extra security?"_ repeated Barty. He sat up straight, his fists clenching around the arms of his chair. "What _extra security?_ There was nothing about _extra security_ when the Ministry-"

Stamford held up a hand to cut him off, and lifted the form that he had been writing on. "Mr Bartemius Crouch, were you, in your own words, 'the most devoted servant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', am I correct?"

"Yes," Barty replied. "But _—_ "

" _—_ In 1981, you were one fourth of the group of Death Eaters that captured and tortured the Aurors, Frank and Alice Longbottom, resulting in their descent into insanity, am I correct?"

"Yes, but _—_ "

" _—_ During the Quidditch World Cup in 1994, you stole a wand belonging to Mr Harry James Potter, and with it performed the incantation _morsemorde_ to conjure the dark mark and launch it into the sky, am I correct?"

"Yes!"

"In 1995, you admitted to the murder of your father, Bartemius Crouch Senior, and the transfiguration of his body to a bone in order to conceal it. Am I correct?"

Barty sighed, and didn't reply. Nevertheless, Stamford continued his spiel.

"And finally, in the same year of 1995, you were later discovered to have admitted to the assistance of You-Know-Who, as well as a multitude of crimes, including performing all three Unforgivable Curses in a classroom of fourteen year old children, the kidnap and imitation of the deceased Alastor Moody, the tampering of the Goblet of Fire to ensure that Harry James Potter's name was revealed, the tampering of the Triwizard Cup to send the same Harry James Potter to a graveyard where You-Know-Who would rise, resulting in the death of Mr Cedric Diggory. Am I _correct_ , Mr Crouch?"

"Yes! Yes you are, alright?" Barty replied, sounding exasperated. It was all true, every word, but what did Stamford want him to do? Repeat his tearful speech that he had released to the Ministry? The truth was that he didn't mean a damn word of that speech, but he was willing to act sensitive if it meant that he could be out of that prison.

"So, as you can see, this is why the extra security is necessary."

"What does the extra security entail?"

In response to this, Stamford began to shuffle around several pieces of parchment on his desk, until he uncovered what he was looking for. "Ah. You will report to the Ministry of Magic every Friday morning at nine a.m., sharp. You will be given an assigned Ministry member who will be your consort, and together you will discuss any issues and positives that you have encountered during your week. Think of it as what the Muggles call... _therapy_.

"As well as that, you will be subjected to random checks throughout your week, in order to ensure that your day-to-day life is running smoothly. Notes will be compiled on the nature of your behaviour. As well as this, a Dementor will be being kept in close proximity to your living quarters in case there are any...problems."

It sounded fair enough. Barty had lived with over a hundred Dementors for the last several years, so he wasn't going to argue with one living locally. He didn't like the idea of having to engage in therapy once a week, nor did he enjoy the prospect of random checks. But it was only for six months. He just had to act as normal as he possibly could for six months, and then he would be totally free...

"I have a few things that might pique your interest," Stamford was saying, bringing Barty's train of thought to a standstill. He looked up, and Stamford waved his wand silently, and suddenly a black, velvet-covered box whizzed through the air from a shelf at the other side of the room. It landed on the desk with a dusty thud, and Barty leaned over to read the golden lettering sprinkled on the lid. _"Toujours Pur"_ was inscribed above a faded image of the Black family crest. "This belonged to your grandmother, Charis Black."

"I didn't know her," responded Barty. "She died before I was born."

"Well, I'm sure you are aware that the home you lived in was given to your father by the parents of Charis Black. As Charis married your grandfather, the house was automatically transferred to his name _—_ Crouch. It was passed onto your father, and subsequently has now been passed on to you, along with whatever possessions were left when your father died."

Stamford proceeded to carefully remove the fraying-edged lid to the box, and removed what looked to be the deed to a house. "The keys are also in this box, along with a few other personal items of your father's, but I'm sure you would like to look at those in your private time," when he finished speaking, Stamford replaced the deed into the box, and closed the lid softly, before pushing it across the desk to Barty.

Barty took the box and clasped it to his chest, proceeding to stand up, but Stamford held out his hand.

"There's just one more thing, before you go." Stamford removed an envelope from his inside pocket, and Barty noticed that his name was written across the front. He held his hand out to receive it, but Stamford didn't hand it over straight away. Instead he paused awkwardly, staring warily at Barty's outstretched hand.

"Hand it over then," Barty demanded.

Stamford looked uncomfortable. "You should know, the Ministry were required to assess the property you will be living at, as well as all the possessions that were left to you. That includes the contents of this envelope."

"What?!" Barty shouted indignantly, throwing himself out of his seat. Stamford pulled back his chair quickly, ready to dive out of it if he deemed necessary. "You had no right! That's private!"

"I think you will find that we had every right, Mr Crouch," Stamford retorted loudly, drowning out Barty's voice. "Although I did know your father personally, and knew he was not a dark wizard, we were still required to confirm that there was nothing dark or illegal within this envelope. Your father did of course, break the law by sneaking your mother into Azkaban and replacing her with yourself."

Barty sat back down quietly, his brow furrowed.

oOo

It was a thin, yellowing envelope, with _Bartemius Crouch Junior_ inscribed in maroon ink across the front. Barty recognised it immediately as his father's handwriting.

He was back at his childhood home now, after being accompanied here by the same three Aurors that had taken him into the Ministry. After reluctantly returning him with his wand and giving him a few final words of warning, they had retreated.

Barty was glad to finally have some peace and quiet. He had wanted to rip open the envelope as soon as Stamford had finally handed it over to him, but he didn't want to give the Ministry official the satisfaction of seeing his response to whatever was written inside. Instead, he had been forced to endure several different mental and physical tests, before he could finally be allowed home.

Before opening it, he stared at the envelope for a little while longer, trying desperately to guess what on earth his father could have written to him that he couldn't have just told him while he was alive. Barty dropped the envelope and reached for another sheet of parchment that Stamford Jorkins had given to him before he left. It was a short piece of paper, with a black and white image of a heart-faced schoolgirl, and a small paragraph informing him of her name, date of birth and gender.

There was an aura of strangeness about the girl; something that Barty could gather just from looking at her picture. She was blinking at him with wide, glossy eyes, occasionally reaching up to brush a strand of long, pale hair from her face, and had a string of what looked like Butterbeer corks around her neck. She was wearing Hogwarts school robes in the image, with a Ravenclaw crest emblazoned on her left breast. He gritted his teeth silently - his father and mother were both sorted into Ravenclaw, while he was destined to be in Slytherin.

Finally, Barty was unable to connect the girl to whatever secret information his father had enclosed within this letter. He reached for the envelope and began to carefully tear it open.


	4. New Discoveries

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

Luna listened intently as her father relayed to her the tale of his final school year in 1962, and all of the events that followed afterwards. His cerulean eyes were shimmering with tears as he held back no details; disclosing every last shred of information.

"...the last I heard from the family was the letter that they sent me; informing me that Bartemius Crouch Junior was born. I burnt the letter shortly after, of course."

Luna held her tongue for a little while, trying to process the information. In truth, it didn't really make sense to her. It didn't feel real _—_ almost as if the tale he had just told her was really a fictional story, or was something that had happened to another person. If it wasn't for the fact that his eyes swam with tears and he sniffled throughout his spiel, she probably would have thought that he was just discussing another article that he could publish in _The Quibbler_.

After what seemed like hours of deafening silence, Luna finally spoke. "Did Mother know about this?" she asked in a small voice.

Xenophilius seemed quite taken aback that this was her initial question. "N-no," he admitted. "I thought about telling her. Hundreds and hundreds of times _—_ nearly every day in fact, before you were born. But I wasn't sure just how to tell her."

"Why _didn't_ you tell her?" Luna pressured. Her voice was neither angry or mellow _—_ just airy and indifferent. It still seemed like such a surreal event. She wasn't sure that she had really taken it all in yet.

"Luna...you must understand."

"I don't, Daddy," she replied quietly. "Mother loved you so much, I know she did. She would have loved you no matter what. She would have helped you. You didn't have to go through all of that on your own."

Xenophilius collapsed into a fresh bout of tears. After wiping his eyes and catching his breath, he retaliated. "Luna, my child. How can you still be such a kind soul, even after what I just told you? I was immature; I was _selfish_. I should have fought him. I should have done better. But I didn't _—_ I was a coward. And you have every right to hate me, Luna. I have quite likely ruined your life."

Despite the uneasy conversation, Luna cracked a smile, tipping her head on one side. She reached over and patted her father's hand warmly. "I love you no matter what. Everyone makes mistakes, Daddy."

"You are so much like your mother, Luna."

There was another small silence while Xenophilius reached for the teapot on the table in front of them, and poured two fresh cups of tea with shaking hands. Luna graciously took the cup from her father, and gave him another soothing smile. Xenophilius took a deep sip from his cup before speaking again.

"I thought about telling your mother, especially while she was pregnant with you," he began. "But it was a dangerous time, as you very well know. Every day I planned a different way to tell her, but I could never get the words out. I hoped and prayed that you would turn out to be a boy. When I finally built up the courage to tell Pandora, I was crushed. It was the same day that the Healer who was monitoring her pregnancy told us that you were to be a girl.

"I threw myself back into the magazine in order to try and get away from the fears of what the Crouch family might do to you. There was always something new to report on _—_ the Order of the Phoenix were doing all that they could to try and stop You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, but during Pandora's pregnancy I had kind of slipped at keeping up to the events. Whilst looking over some reports that had been made in _The Daily Prophet_ , I spotted a trial that had concluded a few weeks before.

"Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange had been sentenced to life in Azkaban for torturing two Order members. Along with Bartemius Crouch Junior.

"It was more than I could ever dream to hope for. I knew that Bartemius Senior was a respectable man, and I knew he probably hated the idea of the Unbreakable Vow, so he was highly unlikely to ever expose what had happened in 1962. Barty's son had been sent to Azkaban; and what were the chances of him getting out? People who were found to be Death Eaters were rarely released from Azkaban.

"So I forgot about it for a while. I didn't think about it for a very long time, as I was sure that he would be dead soon, anyway. And within a handful of years I was proved to be right _—_ news was released that Bartemius Crouch Junior had died in Azkaban.

"After hearing that news, I most certainly didn't think about it again. At least, not until the end of your second year at Hogwarts, when Harry Potter came out of school exposing the fact that You-Know-Who had risen in Little Hangleton, and the person who was responsible was none other than Bartemius Crouch Junior, the same Bartemius Crouch who was supposed to be rotting away in Azkaban. Luckily, I didn't really have a chance to do anything about it, as the moment that Bartemius was discovered, it was revealed that he was immediately given the Dementor's Kiss.

"Of course, I assumed this was finally the end for him. There is of course, no fate worse than the Dementor's Kiss. That, my dear, is why I never told Pandora, or you, about this wretched Vow."

Luna was continuing to carefully listen as her father finally finished speaking. She could, in truth, understand why her father hadn't chosen to tell her or her mother. Personally, she wasn't entirely sure if she would have confessed, should she have been in the same situation.

She finished her tea quietly, and then proceeded to head up to her bedroom. Her father duly followed.

"Luna, please don't be angry with me. When the _Daily Prophet_ explained that Bartemius had received the Dementor's Kiss, I was sure it was true..."

"Daddy, you know perfectly well that the _Daily Prophet_ has always had a tendency to make things up to please their readers," she replied, giving him a knowing smile. Her eyes were twinkling unusually brightly, considering the situation _—_ but then again, Luna had always been able to sparkle, regardless of the situation. "That's why you started _The Quibbler_ , right? So that you could make sure the wizarding community of Britain could know the truth?"

It was a statement that was printed right on the front cover of every edition that Xenophilius published, so he nodded slowly. "Y-yes," he stammered, watching as Luna plucked her rucksack from the back of her bedroom door and began emptying its contents onto the bed. She removed her wand from the back pocket of her jeans and proceeded to perform an Undetectable Extension Charm upon it; a nifty little charm that she had learned from Hermione. "Luna, what are you doing?"

Luna was folding items of clothing and placing them in the rucksack, and then afterwards proceeding to point her wand at various things around her bedroom. Books, accessories and other personal items were soaring from the shelves and landing neatly inside the bag.

"Daddy, for a Ravenclaw, you really are quite dim," she replied with a small smile.

oOo

" _Dear Bartemius,_

 _If you are reading this, then the time has come that a daughter has been born to Mr Xenophilius Lovegood, and she is now eligible due to becoming of age._

 _As you are unaware, an Unbreakable Vow was cast between your grandfather, Mr Casper Crouch, and Mr Xenophilius Crouch when he was aged seventeen, during 1962._

 _Due to an act of injustice committed by Mr Lovegood to our family, your grandfather instructed Mr Lovegood to hand over his first born daughter to my first born son; yourself. You were accepted by my father to do with the daughter as you see fit._

 _My father never stated that you should marry the Lovegood daughter, or do anything with her, should you choose not to. He was a very irrational man, as you may remember from your early years when he was alive, but also a very cruel man. You should know that the fault did not lie solely with Mr Lovegood. My sister, Miss Poppy Crouch, was also somewhat to blame._

 _It is unlikely that Mr Lovegood would ever want to part with a child of his. If he breaks the Unbreakable Vow, he will lose his life._

 _It is in my personal opinion that you should do nothing with this girl. Any female child that Mr Lovegood bears will be of no need to be taken in by you. Please take my advice and do not act on my father's instructions._

 _Yours faithfully,_

 _Your father,_

 _Bartemius Crouch (Sr)."_

When Barty finished reading his father's letter aloud, he sat back in the armchair that he was occupying. The vague comments that Stamford had made before he left suddenly made sense.

Stamford had haughtily told Barty that no matter what he did with the information he discovered, the Ministry would not be able to take action against him _—_ so long as he didn't break any obvious laws. He also said that he agreed with the advice that his father had enclosed within the letter, and hoped that he would take it.

At the time, Barty had been utterly confused and annoyed with Stamford's vague, irritating comments. He knew that Stamford had wanted to discuss the contents of the letter in a more in depth manner, but Barty hadn't read it then. If it was something personal, he wanted to be alone, regardless of the fact that the Ministry had already analysed every word.

He decided to take a short walk around the house that he had lived in as a child, but he wasn't really taking in his surroundings. Instead, he was thinking intently about the information that he had just absorbed.

He didn't even know what he wanted to _do_ with the information. It wasn't like he knew or cared about this girl. But he couldn't help but wonder about what would happen if, just _if_ he decided to act on this Unbreakable Vow. It wasn't like he had ever been good at taking his father's advice.

It wasn't as though the Ministry could arrest him unless he forcibly kidnapped the girl. That explained what Stamford had been mumbling about. Xenophilius Lovegood would have to hand her over, or she would have to come willingly.

Of course, he wasn't _really_ thinking about actually doing anything about it. But he couldn't deny that it was an interesting prospect. Barty looked up around the house, which was bright and airy after being modernised by the Ministry after Barty killed his father. It _was_ a very big house, and it wasn't entirely unlikely that Barty wouldn't be partial to some company, eventually.

So he checked his watch _—_ it was only seven p.m., he still had time to go out before his curfew kicked in _—_ and he made a decision. He would just check this girl out, see what she was like.

It wasn't like he was going to just walk away with her right then and there. If she seemed like too much effort, he certainly wouldn't be going there. He had lived with a hundred Dementor's, but he had never tried to cohabit with a woman. Frankly, he wasn't sure which could be worse.

oOo

"You're _leaving?_ " Xenophilius repeated, his eyes widening in shock. "No, Luna. You can't. It's dangerous out there _—_ he could be waiting around any corner!"

Luna had just finished zipping up her rucksack, and was attempting to fasten her long, straggly blonde hair up into a neat bun. "Daddy," she began, pausing to take a breath. "You know that you could be killed by the Unbreakable Vow _—_ "

" _—_ I'm ready to face my fate," Xenophilius interrupted, but Luna gave him a slightly strained smile, and he silenced.

"You don't understand Daddy; there's a loophole," she continued. "The Unbreakable Vow won't be able to kill you if I'm not here to be given to him. You might have promised to hand me over, but that won't be able to happen if I'm not around. It won't be your fault."

"Luna," Xenophilius started, but his throat cracked. Fresh tears sprang into his eyes. "Where will you go?" he finally asked, his voice weak.

"I'm not sure. I'm not going to tell you, though. It'll be safer for you that way."

Xenophilius collapsed to his knees in front of his daughter, and she leaned forward and kissed his forehead gently. "I don't want you to spend a life on the run," he told her. "It's not fair. It's not your fault. It's not his fault, either _—_ but there's nothing I can do to change about the past now."

"It'll be safer for us both if we're separated," she went on. "I think you should leave the house too, Daddy. We can write to each other, and once all of this is settled..." her voice tailed off, but Xenophilius nodded.

"I understand," he finished, looking at the floor. Luna knew he was feeling an awful mixture of emotions _—_ anger at the entire situation; hatred for himself and Mr Crouch; shame that he never told anyone about this problem; and sadness that he was being forced to separate from his daughter. But there was nothing either of them could do. They both knew that this was the best thing for both of them.

After several moments of wobbly spoken goodbyes, showers of kisses, and Xenophilius breaking out into sporadic bouts of tears, Luna finally left her childhood home. Xenophilius watched her from the door until she was too far ahead to see him at the door anymore, finally disappearing into the orange sunset in front of her.


	5. The Approaching Menace

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

The village of Ottery St. Catchpole was a pathetically dismal place.

Every building was rundown or almost in ruins, creating a graveyard of dull, charcoal grey constructions tarnishing the otherwise green and picturesque village. The only way to tell apart each miserable building was by the cracked-paint signs that decorated anywhere that wasn't a house.

It was raining fairly heavily when Barty trudged through the Muggle village, kicking his boots through puddles and trying to keep his head down. In a way, it was good to be somewhere where he wasn't being constantly recognised; noticing fearful eyes darting downwards and friends exchanging hushed, frantic whispers. However, the Muggles that did pass him still seemed to regard him with haughty apprehension and offer him distasteful glances.

When he finally emerged from the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole and began to stride towards the steep, grassy incline ahead of him, the rain began to stop. However, when he looked back at the buildings, the air around them still appeared to be as grey and cheerless as ever, leaving Barty to assume that good weather must never grace such a miserable and dull place. Shrugging, he turned his back on the village _—_ hopefully, forever _—_ and continued to hike up the hill.

After what seemed like hours of walking, Barty finally caught a glimpse of an odd house in the distance, shaped unusually like a rock. He continued onwards, and was about a hundred or so metres away from the house as the sun started to lower in the sky, casting an orange glow on everything it touched.

A man in his late fifties, with snow-white hair and wearing robes of dandelion yellow was kissing goodbye to a younger girl. She was dressed in Muggle jeans and a heavy knit cardigan, and was carrying a rucksack on her back. Her straggly blonde hair was twirled up in an elaborate bun on top of her head, and she was smiling warmly as she waved goodbye to her father.

Barty gathered what was going on almost immediately, and he felt his lip curling. Clearly, they had already learnt that Barty might be coming to visit them, and had decided on having Luna leave her home. He hated cowardice more than anything, and Barty was sure that Xenophilius Lovegood was acting like one.

oOo

It was almost dark when Luna rapped her knuckles on the door of the Burrow.

She hadn't really wanted to go straight to the Weasley household. It seemed like too much of an obvious choice, seeing as their house was only just over the hill from the Lovegoods. However, it was getting dark, she was tired, hungry, and entirely unprepared for being homeless. She had no idea where she planned on going, so for now, she just needed some friends to talk to.

Naturally, Molly Weasley was blissfully kind. She opened the kitchen door as soon as she spotted Luna treading across the back garden, and told her to sit down in the living room whilst she made up some sandwiches. She was glad to see Ginny sprawled out on the sofa, looking admiringly at her left hand.

"Luna!" she exclaimed, dropping her hand and jumping up when she spotted her friend. Luna placed her rucksack by the door and rushed over to the couch. Ginny stood up, and the two shared a brief hug. When they separated, Ginny looked slightly stern. "Why haven't you come to visit me?" she demanded to know. It had been several months since the two of them graduated from Hogwarts, and they hadn't seen each other, despite only living a few miles away.

"I know," Luna replied with a shrug. "I started helping Daddy with _The Quibbler_. It's quite fun. I think he's hoping I'll take over when he retires. It's taken up a lot of my summer, though. I'm sorry, Ginny."

"It's okay," Ginny responded with a grin. "Anyway, I've been pretty busy myself." She extended her left hand and fanned out the fingers, displaying a beautiful silver ring, encrusted with two shimmering diamonds and a sparkling, deep red ruby in the centre. "Harry and I are engaged!"

"I'm so happy for you, Ginny," Luna reached out and gave her friend another hug. She was delighted about the news, but she couldn't deny that she was secretly a little happier that Ginny was far too distracted to question why Luna was here so late at night. She wasn't ready to explain the whole situation to anyone yet, particularly when she hadn't even processed it properly herself.

They chatted animatedly for a while, and Mrs Weasley soon sat herself down beside them on the sofa, leaving a plate of cheese and ham sandwiches on the coffee table. Luna helped herself to one, half-listening to Molly and Ginny argue good-naturedly about bridesmaids and doilies and appropriate first dance music.

"Hey, Mum, do you know where Hermione's—" Ron was on his way down the stairs when he noticed Luna sitting between his mother and sister. "Luna, hi! What are you doing here?"

"Ronald!" came a sharp voice behind him. Luna watched as a familiar girl with a cloud of bushy brown hair appeared to nudge Ron painfully in the back, causing him to wince and hurry down the stairs, shooting glares behind him. "Do you have to be so impolite?" she scurried over to Luna, pulling her into a hug. "It's been so long since we've seen you!"

"Hermione, hi," Luna greeted, trying not to swallow a mouthful of her hair. Hermione pulled away and beamed at Luna, and then threw herself back into an armchair, seemingly not bothered that it was the same armchair Ron had just seated himself in.

Harry Potter wandered down the stairs in the next moment, and Luna felt a stab of guilt as she thought about Barty Crouch Junior. Everybody knew what had happened to Harry in his fourth year, and she knew that she ought to tell him that he was possibly coming after her. But after Ginny had just told her about the engagement, she couldn't do it to the pair of them. Luna had known Harry for long enough to know that he wouldn't rest until he had personally shut Barty Crouch back in Azkaban.

He greeted Luna too, and then sat over by the window, pulling out a newspaper from the side of the armchair. His face fell, and his brows furrowed as he focused on the front page, and Luna noticed Molly, Hermione and Ginny each shoot Ron a deathly stare.

"You were supposed to get rid of that!" Ginny hissed at her brother, quiet enough so that Harry wouldn't hear. It didn't seem to matter though, he was already deeply engrossed in turning through the pages, exposing the front page to the rest of the living room congregation. Luna noticed that it was the article the _Daily Prophet_ had released a few days ago, the one that listed all of the released Azkaban prisoners and their statements.

"He's only just gotten over the last time he read it," Hermione muttered to Ron, giving him another sharp nudge in the ribs. He looked over at Harry worriedly.

"I didn't mean to _—_ I know Dad wanted to read it, and that's the chair he usually sits in, so I just shoved it down the side."

"Really, Ronald!" Molly scolded, and proceeded to stand up. Before she could though, Ron did instead, and wandered over to where Harry was sitting.

"Listen, mate," he started in a low voice. "You don't need to read that bloody article again. It's not changed since you last looked at it."

"I just can't believe Kingsley actually agreed to this," he muttered in response, his green eyes flickering angrily across the pages. "Surely he should know that this is going to just go incredibly wrong. And it's for a stupid cause, anyway _—_ " Harry shut up quickly, glancing around the room. Now it was Hermione and Ron's turn to give Harry a meaningful look. "I mean, just this whole ' _giving them a chance'_ thing. It's pointless. We all know why they went in there _—_ they were punished for a reason, and they should have to take their punishment."

Hermione and Ron sat back down quietly, and the room was silent for a few moments as Harry continued to rustle through the pages.

"Just look," he continued, stabbing his forefinger at a picture of a pair of twins; a brother and a sister. They both had square faces, cruel, piggish eyes, and broad shoulders. "The Carrows. They tortured _first years_ , and they're getting let out? This statement that they've written makes me sick; _'we're deeply sorry for what we have done, all Alecto ever wanted was to have children of her own'_ , yeah, right.

"I mean, I can understand why they might want to give Stan Shunpike and Pius Thicknesse another shot," Harry continued, the venom in his voice retreating a little. "They were obviously under the Imperius Curse. But this _—_ " he prodded another image violently. "Barty Crouch Junior? For one, he's supposed to be rotting in Azkaban with no soul for what he did. And two, the Ministry _lied_ about his fate? I'm yet to find out why they covered that up. But why, why in the world would they want someone like _him_ to help wizardk _—_ "

" _—_ Harry!" both Hermione and Ron chorused. Ron stalked back over to Harry and snatched the newspaper from his hands, rolling it up and throwing it to the other side of the room.

Ginny gave them both an odd look. "Okay, seriously. What is it you three are hiding?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry replied quietly. He stood up, and gave everyone an apologetic look. "I'm going to head up to bed, I think. It was nice to see you, Luna," before Luna could reply, Harry had rushed off upstairs. Hermione and Ron were hot on his tail, hurriedly bidding their goodbyes to Luna.

"Well, I'm going to go and see what _that_ was all about," Ginny murmured under her breath. She stood up heavily, and kissed her mother on the cheek. "I'll see you later, Luna," she promised her friend, before giving her a final hug and heading upstairs, leaving Luna alone with Mrs Weasley.

Luna could tell that there was something to do with the Azkaban inmates that Harry, Ron and Hermione knew and weren't telling the rest of them. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, all three of them had been spending a lot of time at the Ministry of Magic. Both Ron and Harry had been introduced to the Department of Mysteries properly, and Hermione had been shadowing Kingsley Shacklebolt since she left school, so it was natural that they would learn any secrets the Ministry were hiding. Not to mention the fact that the three of them were responsible for the death of the worlds darkest wizard known to man _—_ that ought to give them a little priority when secrets were flying around.

Technically, as Luna was essentially _betrothed_ to the prisoner that Harry seemed most angry about, whatever they were hiding really had everything to do with Luna. However, she felt that she just didn't want to find out what it was. She had learned too many strange secrets already today. Whatever it was they were keeping private could surely wait.

Mrs Weasley gave Luna a weak smile. "Is everything okay at home, dear?"

Luna felt her stomach clench. She should have known that Mrs Weasley would be able to sniff out a problem from the moment she walked into the Burrow. She had raised enough children to be able to notice when something was wrong. Luna longed to confess the whole story to Mrs Weasley, but she just wasn't ready yet. Alongside that, she didn't know if Mrs Weasley would ever be prepared for such a tale. It would only cause unnecessary upset and worry among her friends, and Luna didn't want to do that to them. Especially not when they were so caught up in their own business.

After a long period of still silence, during which Molly continued to watch her worriedly, Luna finally stretched her mouth into the vacant smile that her friends were all so used to seeing, and spoke; "of course, Mrs Weasley. Daddy and I just had a little disagreement, that's all. It's been a little hard on both of us, working in the cellar on _The Quibbler,_ day in and day out. Daddy has never wanted to get a proper office, you see. I thought I would just get away for a little while."

Luna felt terrible for lying right into Molly's caring face, but she just couldn't bear the thought of causing everyone to worry about her. Frankly, Luna was pretty confident that Molly didn't believe her anyway, what with the way she cocked a thick, auburn eyebrow, and pursed her lips in disbelief. However, after opening and closing her mouth a few times as if to challenge Luna's story, Molly simply shrugged. She seemed to have gathered that Luna wasn't ready to discuss the real issue just yet.

"Well dear, you're more than welcome to stay here. Percy's room is empty, so it's perfect if you want to stay for as long as you like," Molly told her, offering her a warmer smile. Luna smiled back, a little brighter this time.

"Are you sure, Mrs Weasley?"

"Of course, Luna," Mrs Weasley replied. She looked over to the family clock, glancing at the hand that had Arthur's name on it. It was pointed firmly at 'work'. She returned Luna's gaze with a mellow look. "Poor Arthur. Ever since the war, the Ministry just hasn't been itself. Of course, no one expected it to just return to an efficient government straight away, but I suppose people just _assumed_ that Kingsley would make appropriate changes a lot faster. But now there's all this talk of freeing prisoners..." Molly's voice tailed off, and Luna took that moment to stand up quickly.

"I think I will go to bed, Mrs Weasley," she told her. "Could you tell me which way Percy's room is?"

Mrs Weasley gave her directions to the right bedroom, and Luna hastily picked up her rucksack and hurried up the stairs, while Mrs Weasley sighed softly on the sofa.

oOo

It was midnight, and Barty was watching Luna through the third floor bedroom of the house that he had followed her to. He had been hovering there for a few hours, trying to make a final decision of what he could possibly do about the unusual situation he seemed to have found himself in.

In the last couple of hours, he had seen Luna go through several different emotional phases that he hadn't been aware girls could experience. He had watched her cry into her pillow, trying to muffle her sobs so that no one else could hear. He witnessed her pull out a book from her bag and read it for a little while by wandlight, occasionally laughing at the contents. When she settled down to sleep, she seemed impassive, but tell-tale sounds from underneath her duvet told Barty that she was crying once again.

He was pretty sure he knew why she was so upset. There was no doubt that Luna knew about the Unbreakable Vow by this point, and she was worried that Barty was going to swoop in and kidnap her.

That wasn't his intention. At least, he didn't think it was. He was still indecisive.

The truth was, Barty didn't really want to go back to his old, empty manor in London. He had spent the last several years living entirely alone, with nothing but the cold breath of the Dementor's and the groans of fellow inmates for company. The life he had before he was sent to Azkaban was almost even worse - he had been confined underneath an Invisibility Cloak with just a house-elf for a friend. That house held a lot more bad memories than good. Maybe it was time to make his new, free life a little more interesting.

And so, with his face splitting into a maniacal smirk, Barty Crouch tapped his wand on the window pane so that it would slide open silently, and swung himself inside the bedroom.


	6. Attempted Vigilance

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

When Luna finally managed to get herself comfortable, she fell into a deep sleep.

She hadn't even realised how tired she had been. The whole day had passed in a strange, dream-like haze, and soon her thoughts and recurring memories of the conversations she'd engaged in today began to swirl around her mind, leaving various images in their place.

An image of a younger version of her father; she recognised him from his seventh year school photograph. Long, pale blonde hair like hers framed his face, and wide silvery eyes. In her mind he was scared; just a child, afraid of what was going to happen to him. In her dream she was plagued by nargles; hundreds and hundreds of the tiny, worm-like creatures that she could see clearly, as if she were wearing her special glasses.

Someone else began to swim through the nargle infestation in her minds eye. An image of a man she recognised from the _Daily Prophet_ article, with straw-like hair, glossy brown eyes and a terrifying, insane smile. She felt discomfort radiating through her body, and the worrisome sensation that someone was watching her.

Slowly her mind began to regain conciousness, and she opened her eyes slowly, adjusting her senses to the fact that she wasn't in her own bedroom at home, before sitting up carefully.

Barty Crouch Junior was sitting in the armchair beside the door, offering her the same leer that was reserved for his Azkaban mugshot. She screamed.

oOo

When Luna really did wake up five minutes later, she was thrashing around in her sweat-soaked sheets, her feet tangled around her duvet. She forced herself into a sitting position, and aimed her line of vision towards the armchair beside the door.

No one was sitting in it. The only thing that resided on its plush seat were a few of Percy's possessions, her rucksack, and the clothes that she had been wearing prior to climbing into bed. No one was there.

It was just a dream.

"Are you okay, Luna?" a voice called from outside, and she saw candlelight flickering beneath the door. It was Mrs Weasley.

"Y-yes," Luna replied shakily, her heart still thumping erratically from the nightmare. "Just a bad dream. Sorry for waking you," she called.

"Would you like me to make you a drink, dear?"

"No, thank you," Luna responded. She was already worried that she'd put the Weasley's out enough tonight, just by arriving here so unexpectedly. It was the middle of the night - she didn't want poor Mrs Weasley fretting around in the kitchen at this hour. "It's okay. You go back to bed, Mrs Weasley."

"Well, Arthur and I are just in the room above you," she called back though the door, and Luna sighed, laying back on her pillow.

"What an awful dream," she murmured to herself, allowing her eyes to close.

"Were you having a nightmare?" a gravelly voice asked. Luna cracked her eyes open quickly, and looked over to the window, where the voice had come from. Standing there, illuminated by the moonlight, was Barty Crouch Junior.

 _Really_ , this time. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, he had lunged forward and clapped his large, calloused hand over her open mouth.

In a sudden, desperate attempt to protect herself, she threw out her free arm to grab her wand, which she had left upon the bedside table _—_ only it wasn't there. She should have expected that it would have been the first thing he made sure she couldn't reach, but it was worth a try. Instead, she chose to clamp her teeth down on his hand, hard, until the metallic taste of blood washed over her tongue. He snarled angrily and retracted his hand, glaring at the bite marks on his palm.

Luna dived out of the bed and jumped over to the far wall, flattening her back against it, before glancing over at the door. She could make a run for it, but he was taller than her. There was no competition _—_ he would be able to sprint over to the door before her and smash her head against it, if he wished.

Instead, she chose to do the first thing that came natural to her _—_ open her mouth and scream her lungs out, hoping that the other residents of the Burrow would hear and bring their wands along. She hated the thought of being so helpless, and hated even more the thought that she could be putting her friends in danger, but she had no other choice. She was cornered with no wand like a mouse, feeling extremely exposed in her thin nightshirt. So she opened her mouth, and took in a deep breath.

Before she could let the scream out however, Barty jabbed his own wand in her direction. _"Silencio,"_ he muttered, and Luna was suddenly rendered mute. She clutched at her throat, and blinked over at him with her wide eyes. As he advanced upon her, she managed to get a better look at his appearance.

His narrow eyes were a deep, chestnut brown, with a dangerous glimmer lurking within them, and his straw-like hair was scruffy and dark, desperately in need of a good haircut. She realised that he was wearing Muggle clothes; blue denim jeans with various rips across them, a faded t-shirt, and a huge brown overcoat with a large buckling belt, which was currently hanging unfastened as he crossed the bedroom towards Luna.

He was holding his own wand in his right hand, but in his left he was twiddling Luna's between his fingers.

"Are you going to be quiet?" he asked. Luna was struck by how polite he came across _—_ even though he had initially spoke with such a scary, slightly unhinged voice, he now seemed to be so civil with her, as if he were chatting good-naturedly with a friend. As he stepped closer into the light, Luna noticed that he didn't even appear as terrifying and manic as he looked originally or in his mugshot. He just looked like a grown man in his thirties _—_ aside from the slightly homeless sense of style.

She opened her mouth as if to respond, before remembering the silencing charm. Instead, she looked at him carefully, trying to detect any trace of a malicious plan in his eyes. At that moment, she realised just how impossible this man was to read.

"I just want to talk," Barty continued, cocking his head to the side slowly. Luna took notice of the stubble that shaded his chin, and a thick, dark bruise around his neck, as if he had been choked by something. "Are you going to be quiet?"

At the repeat of the question, Luna hesitantly nodded. Barty's grin widened, and he raised his wand again, causing Luna to shrink back, expecting him to curse her. Instead, he silently lifted the silencing charm, and Luna felt her voice flowing back into her throat as easily as if she had just taken a breath.

"That's mine," was the first thing she said in a quiet voice, referring to the wand that Barty was fiddling with.

"You won't be needing it," he responded, and pocketed it in the depths of the large coat.

"I know you," she whispered, staring at him with her wide, silvery eyes. "I think...I think we should talk about this... _arrangement_...that our fathers had." Even though Barty didn't seem as intimidating now that he was right in front of her, she was still scared. However, she knew she needed to have the upper hand in this situation - she couldn't show him just how afraid she was. Though, as she tried to relax against the wall, she was almost sure that he would be able to hear her heartbeat, which was thumping dreadfully loudly in her ears.

Barty's eyes narrowed slightly, and he pointed his wand at the door, not taking his eyes off of her. _"Muffliato,"_ he said in a soft voice, instantly ensuring that no one else in the house would be able to hear their conversation.

"I know our parents made this Vow," Luna started, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "But we don't have to go along with what they expected of us. Technically, it has nothing to do with you, or me."

"The problem is, it has everything to do with you," Barty's eyes were unblinking, and his voice was smooth. "As your father willingly agreed to hand you over to me; a promise he made by the Unbreakable Vow."

Luna irritation swell in her chest, and she gritted her teeth. She wasn't an object. She wasn't someone's _property._ There was no need for this stranger to sneak up on her and treat her like one. She didn't care if he was a Death Eater or if he was insane. They were going to sort out this problem properly, like grown-ups, if it killed her.

"Well, I'm not my father's to _give away_ ," she replied with an air of loftiness. The anger that she had felt briefly had sent a new surge of confidence through her. "I've left home now, so he can't _hand me over._ " Luna couldn't help but feel slightly smug at this moment _—_ surely, this was her loophole. There was no way that he could get through this, not without kidnapping her; which Luna was pretty sure he wouldn't go to lengths to do, particularly if he wanted to remain _out_ of Azkaban.

A smirk flitted across Barty's face, and he retreated a few steps until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he fell back into a sitting position onto the duvet. He looked up at Luna, and she realised at that moment how very mistaken she had been in not allowing herself to be intimidated by him.

His eyes were glinting up at her; the previous spark of danger no longer just a minor glimmer any more, but fully present in his dull irises. The smirk he was wearing wasn't cheeky or arrogant _—_ it was venomous. Any confidence she had previously felt was draining out of her like water from a stream, being replaced with the pure, undiluted fear that she should of felt from the moment she first saw him.

"I thought that we would come to this dilemma," he began, his voice sharp and cutting. How had this man sounded so civil and polite when he first questioned her? "I am aware that you were a Ravenclaw student at Hogwarts, so surely you're a woman of remarkable mental talent?"

Luna stared unblinkingly up at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I haven't quite decided _what_ I want to do with you yet, Miss Lovegood. I could just take you back with me, of course, but what if you drive me crazy? What if you annoy me so much that I can't deal with you anymore?"

"You could let me go," Luna whispered, feeling slightly hopeful. He shot her a belittling look, as if she were being plain stupid.

"No, no, no. I'd have to kill you, of course. And I don't want to have to do that _—_ I'm turning over a new leaf, you see. No, this is besides the point."

Luna noticed at this point that his voice had become erratic; fast-paced. She could only just catch his sentences. How had the Ministry let this man loose? He was quite clearly _insane_ _—_ he needed to be under constant supervision, not being allowed to wander the length and breadth of England with free roam.

" _If_ I decide to take you home with me, and you refuse," Barty went on. "It wouldn't be considered kidnapping, I think, if I were to head over the hill to your home and kill your father in his _sleep_ ," he hissed the final word, and Luna's blood ran cold.

"No you wouldn't," she murmured back, licking her dry lips carefully. "Your wand is being tracked _—_ the Ministry will see if you use any Unforgivable Curses. I read that in the _Daily Prophet_."

Barty started to laugh. It was a cruel, guffawing laugh, and what Luna had said clearly caused him a great deal of amusement, as he doubled over where he was sitting, clutching at his stomach. However, the scariest thing about this action wasn't the manic laughter, but the way he so suddenly regained composure, sitting up straight and stiff as if he had never been laughing in the first place.

"Do you think they could catch me?!" Barty shouted at Luna, his voice returning to the unstable tone it had been in just moments ago. She was glad that he had cast the _Muffliato_ spell on the bedroom at this moment. This was the man who had tortured Neville's parents and helped bring back Voldemort. She didn't want anyone to panic and arrive unprepared, particularly as Luna hadn't already told her friends about this situation. This man was probably capable of things she'd never even dreamed of. "I thought you Ravenclaws were supposed to be clever. There are other ways to kill a human, my dear. They don't all require the use of a wand."

She leant back against the wall, feeling utterly hopeless. What choice did she have? Barty had already clearly decided what he wanted, even though he had given her the impression that he wasn't altogether sure what he wanted to do with her. She couldn't risk Barty hurting her father, or to anyone else that she cared about. The risk that he could avoid Azkaban was far too much of a risk to take.

"Can I ask you one question first," Luna asked, her voice gentle. Barty's eyebrow shot up, and he looked her up and down carefully, as if he were sizing her up. "What do you want with me? I mean, what's the point of doing this? I'll be of no use to you."

His smirk spread wider as he looked up at her from the bed. "You really want to know?"

Luna bit her lip, but nodded.

"I've been alone for too long," he replied. Clearly, he was admitting something personal, but he spoke so harshly that Luna still felt fearful. "I was alone in that house for most of my life, and I was alone in Azkaban. And since leaving that place, everybody looks at me like I'm crazy. You don't know what that's like."

"You're wrong," Luna responded softly. "I know exactly what that's like."

The air between them was still for a few moments, but was quickly broken by Barty standing up from the bed. He stared down at her, his eyes once again filled with that maniacal glint.

"So, are you going to come with me willingly, or are we going to have to pay a visit to your father?"

Any similarity she briefly felt to Barty was gone as instantly as it appeared, replaced with an icy unease for her father's safety. A vision of his death suddenly flashed before her eyes. She knew Xenophilius was a brilliant wizard, and she had no doubt about his level of magical talent. But deep down, Luna knew that even though Xenophilius was seventeen years older than Barty, he was no match for the ex-Death Eater. Barty was no doubt trained in the Dark Arts, and there was no way her poor father would be able to match that kind of magic. Even though Barty probably wouldn't use any magic that would jeopardise his position in the wizarding world, it didn't mean he wouldn't threaten Xenophilius with it.

Luna sighed. It was no secret that her father was quite cowardly, even though she loved him dearly. She knew this was the only way to protect her beloved father.

So, as she stepped towards Barty's outstretched hands, her lip wobbling, she vowed that she would take the first chance she got to get away from him. Swallowing nervously, she snatched up the rucksack from the armchair beside the door and threw it over her shoulder, before tenderly placing her hands in Barty's. His fingers closed over hers, and the last thing she saw before she was sucked into the swirling, nauseating sensation of side-along Apparition, was Barty's, gleaming brown eyes, shining in the dark.

oOo

When Luna awoke, she was slightly hopeful that the previous night had been nothing but a horrible, confusing dream. She laid quietly in the comfortable sheets for a short while, nestled into the pillow beneath her cheek, and kept her eyes shut firmly. She wanted to convince herself that she was still in Percy Weasley's old bed, in the Burrow, breathing in the smell of a full English being cooked by Molly just downstairs.

But there was no aroma of bacon or eggs. Instead, the smell of recently applied paint filled her nostrils, causing her to force her eyes open. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and taking a good look at her surroundings.

She was in a large, spacious room, and the walls were painted cream. One wall was made entirely out of glass, looking out onto the suburban road and a park beyond this house. Luna could tell, just by looking out of this window from the bed, that the room she was occupying was fairly high up in the building.

The room was obviously previously unused. The walls were painted so neatly, without a single blemish or stain upon them, and the wooden floor was shiny, the scent of polish in the air. She was sitting in a large, four-poster bed, with crisp white sheets and a blue quilted blanket. Luna idly fingered a loose thread on the blanket as she processed last nights events.

It had really happened. Barty had found her. It had happened so fast, though, which was what shocked Luna the most. Of course, she had kind of expected that she would bump into him at some point, but not within the same day that she learned of his connection to her.

It really was an unfortunate series of events, but Luna knew that she had to make the best of whatever situation she was in. It was a lesson that her mother always taught her _—_ to try and be vigilant and strong no matter what she was experiencing.

Things were already looking up slightly. Luna had half expected that she would be thrown into a dungeon and fed scraps from the table, but instead she had her own comfortable room; a sense of privacy. That was already more than she could of hoped for.

With a small sigh, Luna forced herself to smile. Her father was safe. Her friends were safe. All she had to do was put up with Barty until he hopefully grew bored of her presence, and perhaps he release her. For now, she just had to let things fall into place. If she was lucky, the chance of an escape would probably arise before long.

After a while, she climbed out of the bed. She needed something to occupy her mind for a little while, and knew that writing to her father would probably be a good idea. He would naturally be worried, and the first thing he would want to know was the state of her safety. She didn't want to tell him that Barty had found her already, even though she was unharmed, but she didn't want him to panic.

After digging around in her rucksack for a few minutes, she found a few scraps of parchment and some writing equipment, and quickly scribbled out a note to her father.

 _Dear Daddy,_

 _Please don't worry about me. I'm safe now, and I don't think I'll be found. Look after yourself, and get as far away from Ottery St. Catchpole as you can._

 _I love you,_

 _Luna._

There was no way she could send the letter just yet, but she folded up the scrap and tucked it back into her rucksack carefully, making a mental note to carry it around with her on the off chance that she found an owl.

Zipping up her rucksack and releasing another sigh, she headed over to the window, staring out into the grassy park opposite the house.

Being here wasn't ideal, but she focused on the memory of her mother.

" _Be vigilant and strong, Luna. No matter where you end up, or what problem you find yourself in - you can always make good of a bad situation. I know you have that light within you."_

She closed her eyes and smiled weakly, trying to build up strength for the new life ahead of her.


	7. Soul Saver

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

As Barty sat in a plush armchair in his living room, facing the hearth, he sighed pleasantly.

He was _comfortable_. He was _home_. He wasn't rotting in a cell in Azkaban any more, listening to the frantic wails of his neighbouring prisoners, and desperately trying to escape the chronic emptiness that the Dementors forced him to endure on a daily basis. Even though this house was a lot different from how he remembered it before his imprisonment, it was still home, and frankly, he was a lot happier that it was so different. The memories of this house weren't all good ones.

Stamford had told Barty that Ministry workers had come into the Crouch Manor shortly after Barty Senior had died. It was something that the old man had designated as a high importance; to ensure that the manor was returned to a high standard once it was empty.

The entire manor was now airy and light. Having previously belonged to the Black family, most of the rooms were made up of dark wood panels and even darker paintwork, but the Ministry had entered and flooded the entire house in shades of pale cream and white. The wooden floors had been polished and any marks removed, the windows were scrubbed clean and the blinds were all drawn, allowing sunlight to seep into the empty rooms. Barty couldn't remember there ever being this many windows. They had almost always remained covered while he was a child.

When Barty had wandered absent-mindedly into his father's old bedroom out of curiosity, he was quite sure that the Ministry worker who cleaned and painted that particular room must have been a great fan of Barty Senior. Every single heirloom and object in the old man's room had been polished vigorously, causing everything to gleam and glimmer when the light touched it.

Barty had closed the door on that room, and vowed never to enter it again.

His mother's old room had been the room on the top floor of the manor. It was a large, spacious room, with a window that spread across an entire wall. The only other room on that floor was a bathroom. Barty's father had added the floor as an extension when his mother began to fall ill. He said that it was so she could have her own privacy and personal comforts while she was dying, but Barty knew otherwise. His father was afraid of looking into her sallow, empty eyes every morning when he woke up.

Barty had decided to place Luna on that floor. While he was still unsure of his motives with the girl, he wanted her as far away from him unless he called for her. The top of the house was almost a private little apartment, separate from the rest of the house. For now, that was exactly how he wanted it.

It was selfish, to essentially kidnap a girl and then lock her away like a princess in a tower, especially when he didn't even know what he wanted to do with her yet. But Barty didn't care.

As he continued to gaze around the living room that he was occupying, thinking about the extreme makeover the Ministry had given the manor, Barty couldn't quite understand why his father would want renovating the house to be of high importance. His father worked at the Ministry most of the day, every day, and spent hardly any time at home. His presence graced the manor even less once Barty's mother died in Azkaban, as he couldn't bear to be around his son, whom he kept constantly under the Imperius Curse.

Barty snarled at the memory of being constantly hidden under an invisibility cloak, whilst his mind was filled with the fogginess of his father's mind control, and his only company being Winky, the house elf.

He leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes slowly. He had only been out of Azkaban for a day, and he hadn't had the chance to rest yet. Now he had dealt with the Unbreakable Vow and Luna Lovegood, and gone through his checks and tests at the Ministry, he could finally relax.

As the large clock on the wall ticked softly, Barty allowed himself to be lulled into the pull of unconsciousness, falling slowly into a dream.

oOo

 _It's the twenty-fourth of June, 1995. He knows the date perfectly - it was the day he almost lost everything_

 _He is waiting in the dungeons where Snape had recently dragged him, with his hands fastened behind his back. He feels uncomfortable_ — _he's still wearing the large clothes belonging to Mad-Eye; clothes that he had stolen whilst impersonating him using Polyjuice Potion. Ahead of him stands Minerva McGonagall, looking a little unhappy, and the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who is avoiding his eye contact._

 _Suddenly, McGonagall wordlessly conjures a Patronus_ — _a large, tabby cat, and it begins to stroll around herself, Snape and Fudge protectively, casting an ethereal pearly glow in its wake._

 _Barty can feel a presence now; as soon as the creature floats dangerously into the dungeon, he feels as though he has just plunged his face through the first icy layer of a frozen lake. Any glee he had felt at being able to restore his master to full glory was being sucked out of him; extricating from every pore in his body and being absorbed by the horrific creature in front of him._

 _It looms towards him; an ominous figure of death. He knows this is the end. Whatever kind of a life he will experience after the Dementor pulls his soul from within him won't be a life at all; he will be nothing but a shivering, empty shell of a human._

 _It's pulling it's hood down now. Barty feels momentarily disgusted at its appearance; a bald, rotting grey head with no visible facial characteristics_ — _just a wide gash for a mouth, which was hanging open, exposing what appeared to be an endless black hole, and empty sockets in the place where eyes should be. The skin is grey and filthy, and large, skeletal hands stretch out; long, slimy fingers with crumbling nails on the tips._

 _Barty shudders as he hears it breathe. It's a horrible, rattling sound, as if it was already sucking out any traces of happiness from the air. It hovers over him, its decomposing face leering closer and closer. He can taste the eerie sting of despair on his tongue..._

 _Suddenly, there is an ear-splitting crack, and the Dementor is sent spiralling backwards, hissing as it does so. Barty's eyes flutter open, looking around for the source of the Dementor's failed attempt to Kiss him. Fudge, McGonagall and Snape are all at the other side of the room, looking pale. The Patronus has dissolved, probably due to McGonagall's shock at the intrusion._

 _Standing in front of Barty, dressed in a clean white tea-towel and pointing a long, knobbly finger at the Dementor, is Winky the House Elf._

" _You will not harm Master Barty!" she cries in a high pitched wail, glaring around the room._

 _Everyone blinks in astonishment, Barty included. Winky the House Elf had already previously been sent down to the Hospital Wing, after discovering that Barty had killed his father, and being unable to handle that information. Apparently on her way there she had learnt what the Minister planned to do to her old master, and couldn't abide it._

" _What is the meaning of this?" splutters Fudge, but he is eyeing Winky with precaution._

" _Crouch isn't your master anymore, Elf," snarls Snape, edging towards her with his wand outstretched. "You were freed by Crouch Senior."_

" _Winky will always serve the Crouches," she replies stiffly. With a sneer, Snape flicks his wand threateningly, but before he can cast an incantation, Winky snaps her fingers, and his wand appears in her own hand._

" _How dare you!" Snape hisses, but before he can throw himself at her, McGonagall throws out her arm in front of him._

" _Severus, please take the Dementor away from this room, it's causing a horrible atmosphere," she orders crisply, staring straight into Winky's big brown eyes. "I will alert the headmaster, and we will listen to what Winky has to say."_

" _Listen_ — _to a_ _House Elf?" Snape splutters, glaring at McGonagall. She eyes him over the rims of her spectacles._

" _You are well aware that we treat House Elves as equals at Hogwarts, Severus. Now please remove the Dementor from the dungeons, if you will."_

 _Snape mutters something ineligible under his breath, and snatches his wand from Winky's hand. After conjuring his own Patronus; a tall, dainty doe, he storms out of the dungeon, ushering the Dementor ahead of him with his Patronus._

 _After several moments of quietly waiting, during which Winky turns around and sobs into Barty's lap, Albus Dumbledore arrives in the dungeons. Strangely, he smiles over at Barty, his eyes twinkling, and then transfers the smile to Winky, who turns around and bows to him. Barty had previously heard during his time impersonating Mad-Eye that Winky was doing anything but cooperate with the school, but she seems to have some respect for Dumbledore._

 _Dumbledore crosses to where Fudge is standing awkwardly, still looking rather peaky from the Dementor's influence. "I say we rest our old legs on something more comfortable, what do you think?" he says with a smile. McGonagall remains silent, whilst Fudge raises his eyebrows._

" _Dumbledore_ — _we haven't got_ time _for this! For heaven's sake, get rid of that bloody House Elf right now, and bring the Dementor back. If we're lucky, we can have Crouch reprimanded back in Azkaban after receiving the Kiss, and we can get the story into the_ Daily Prophet _before the morning edition goes out."_

" _I shall do no such thing, Cornelius," Dumbledore replies quietly. He retrieves his long wand from the sleeve of his periwinkle blue robes, and gives it a silent flourish. Three large, plush armchairs suddenly materialise in the air, and float gently down onto the dungeon floor. Dumbledore sits down with a gratified sigh, and McGonagall perches on the edge of another armchair. After giving them both mystified looks, Fudge throws himself down on the third armchair, with the air of a sulky child._

 _Barty remains silent as he watches the odd scene play out in front of him. After ensuring he was comfortable, Dumbledore presses his fingertips together and directs his twinkling blue gaze to Winky. "Winky, I'm under the impression that something is wrong?"_

" _You won't harm Master Barty," Winky repeats, but she doesn't say it in the same confident tone that she had used previously. Her voice wavers, and she averts her gaze to the floor, clearly nervous in front of Dumbledore._

" _You are aware that Bartemius has committed a series of crimes, one of which includes escaping Azkaban prison, which is punishable by the Dementor's Kiss," Dumbledore replies softly._

" _That wasn't Master Barty's fault!" screeches Winky suddenly. "That was Mr Crouch and the Missus_ — _the Missus wanted Barty at home because he was only a young boy when he got sent there in the first place. Mr Crouch was the one who smuggled the Missus in and took Barty home. Barty had no idea Mr Crouch was going to do that."_

 _Dumbledore raises his hands, as if Winky's speech explained everything. "Well, there you are, Cornelius. It would appear that the Dementor's Kiss in no longer required, as there is no crime committed that requires that kind of punishment."_

 _Fudge shoots a demented look over at Dumbledore. "Are you out of your mind, Albus? What about everything else he's done?"_

" _If you're referring to the rebirth of the Dark Lord, I thought you already exclaimed that it was redundant, as you do not believe such an event occurred?"_

" _Of_ — _course_ — _not," splutters Cornelius. He takes a deep breath to regain his composure, and his plum-coloured face begins to soften. "This dangerous criminal has been in the presence of children for a whole academic year!"_

" _And none were harmed."_

" _What about Cedric Diggory?" shoots back Fudge._

" _You said yourself, Cornelius, that Cedric's death was a tragic, unfortunate accident." Before Fudge could reply, Dumbledore stands up and paces the room, his hands behind his back. "I believe you really do not have a leg to stand on, Cornelius. Our laws state clearly that in the event of a prisoner escaping Azkaban, the Dementor's would be allowed to Kiss that prisoner once he or she was returned to Azkaban. However, Barty did not escape Azkaban_ — _he was extricated, by his own father. Now, if Bartemius Senior was still around, I'm sure the Dementor's would be happy to proclaim his soul, but unfortunately, he dead."_

" _Killed by him!" yells Fudge, pointing his stubby finger at Barty._

" _A crime which is punishable only by life in Azkaban," finishes Dumbledore calmly._

 _There is a long period of silence, during which Fudge seems unable to come up with an adequate retaliation. Eventually, he speaks again. "Anyone would think you wanted him to go without punishment, Albus," he mutters darkly, climbing up from his own seat._

" _Of course not, Cornelius," Dumbledore replies brightly. "I'm sure Minerva will agree with me when I say how much I detest the use of Dementors by the Ministry of Magic; even when it comes to the punishment of a notorious criminal. Nevertheless, I hope you have made the correct decision, Minister."_

 _Fudge's throat bobs as he swallows. Everyone knew that it was Dumbledore whom Britain had wanted for Minister of Magic, but Dumbledore had turned down the position, instead allowing Fudge to take leadership. It is no secret that Fudge often looks to Dumbledore for advice in running the wizarding community of Britain, and this was no different. He knows that Dumbledore is right in what he is saying, even though he clearly longs to allow the Dementor to suck out the soul of Barty Crouch Junior._

 _He had written several of the laws himself, so it is only fair that he should do his best to uphold them._

" _Oh, Dolores won't be pleased," he murmurs to himself, but he waves his wand in a circular motion briefly. A roll of parchment appears in the air, and unravels itself slowly. He gives another flick of his wand, and various words begin to morph and edit themselves. "I, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, do hereby sentence Bartemius Crouch Junior to life imprisonment in Azkaban," he finishes, disappointment evident in his voice._

 _Barty feels the air leave his throat fluidly, almost as if the Dementor has returned and sucked it straight from his throat. Winky gives a shriek of delight, and throws her tiny arms around his knees excitedly._

" _You made the right decision, Cornelius," offers Dumbledore, and his eyes continue to glitter knowingly. "And may I say, we shouldn't always base our choices on what men and women currently in our lives may wish."_

 _Fudge flushes an unattractive shade of vermilion, and begins to storm from the dungeon. "Have the Dementor return to accompany Crouch to Azkaban," he answers swiftly, before the tail of his robes vanishes around the doorway._

oOo

"Mr Crouch," a feminine voice was saying, slowly stirring Barty from his slumber. "Mr Crouch."

He cracked his eyes open slowly, and became aware of a blurry, pale blonde vision. When his view cleared, he backed up from Luna, who was hovering in front of his face, calling his name.

"What?" he asked, sitting up straight and brushing himself down. Once he had begun to get used to his surroundings again, he shook his head, realising that he hadn't asked Luna to come downstairs. "What are you doing here?" he spat, causing her to back away from him slowly.

She had changed from her pyjamas, Barty noticed, and was now wearing denim jeans and a ridiculous yellow knitted jumper, with the emblem of an orange 'L' on the left breast. Her hair was floating down her back and around her face, uncombed and slightly bushy. She was watching him with wide, glittering grey eyes, her facial expression difficult to read.

"What do you want?" he repeated in a more dangerous tone. If this was how she was going to act—all floating around and staring at him all the time—he would be happy to let her just go back to her Daddy.

That, or he could kill her.

His thought process was disturbed by a sudden knock on the door, jolting him back to his senses.

"There's someone at the door," she replied, before turning on her heel and beginning to leave the living room.

"Where are you going?" he asked suddenly, even though he was looking over at the door, trying to work out who it could be.

"Back to my room, of course," she replied solemnly. Barty opened his mouth to retaliate, but before any words could leave his throat, there was already the sound of her feet on the stairs.

With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Barty headed over to the front door, wondering just who on earth could be visiting him already.


	8. John Dawlish

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

Barty headed over to the door unenthusiastically. Through the stained glass window, he could see a large shadow of what he presumed to be a male form. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just ignore the person behind the door and disappear to his bedroom upstairs—after all, he'd only had a few hours of sleep—but the other part of him knew that this visitor was probably from the Ministry. If that was the case, it would be pointless to ignore the door. Within a few minutes of obvious ignorance, the visitor was likely to bust the door open.

So, with a loud sigh, Barty tentatively unlocked the door and pulled it open.

His suspicions of who was on the other side were soon confirmed. Standing on the threshold was a wizard who was obviously a Ministry worker. He was very tall and wide-shouldered, with thick brown hair streaked with grey, an olive complexion, narrow grey eyes and heavyset wrinkles across his face. He was dressed in a sharply pressed black robes, and he was wearing a starch white shirt underneath, with the collar buttoned up tightly to the neck and a dark magenta tie fastened neatly. There was a badge on his chest with the Ministry of Magic emblem upon it, and the name 'J. Dawlish' beside it.

He held out a hand for Barty to shake. Barty let his gaze travel to the man's outstretched hand, and then back to his face, without making a move. Slowly, the Ministry worker retracted his hand, and licked his lips before speaking.

"Hello, Mr Crouch. My name is John Dawlish." He jabbed a thumb towards the badge on his chest. "I was previously of the Auror Office in the Ministry of Magic. However, I have recently been employed as your personal Watchwizard, while you are integrated into normal society. May I please come inside so that I can discuss some things with you?"

"No," Barty replied blandly.

Dawlish's face constricted as he tried to repress a frown. "Very well," he retorted stiffly, and then made to retrieve a roll of parchment from the inside of his robse. "We shall discuss them here, on your doorstep."

It was a terrible attempt at reverse psychology. Barty didn't really care about standing on the doorstep—he just didn't want random Ministry workers making themselves at home so soon, before he had even had the chance to enjoy his personal luxuries himself. "Go ahead," he answered lamely.

As Dawlish unrolled the sheaf of parchment, Barty groaned inwardly and rolled his eyes—he was getting sick to the back teeth of Ministry workers and their constant stream of _rules_. Surely he had heard them all by now?

His mind began to tail off into a flood of random thoughts as Dawlish began to reel off the rules that Stamford had already provided him with. After what seemed like several dire hours, he finally noticed Dawlish roll up the parchment, and return it to his robes. "Of course, I'm sure you are well aware of all the rules by now, as well as the terms of your six month security period, but surely you understand why I need to repeat the rules to you?" he drawled.

"Yep," said Barty in a bored tone. He was assuming that Dawlish was done by now, and was preparing to shut the door in his face, but the ex-Auror had his foot lodged firmly in the doorway.

"One more thing I just need to confirm. You will be starting your new job on Monday, correct?"

Barty cocked an eyebrow. "No. I haven't found a job yet." How could they be expecting him to start work yet? He'd barely been out of Azkaban two minutes.

"Ah," Dawlish began patting his pockets again as he searched for something. "Stamford said he'd sent an owl, but he must of forgotten. He finally revealed another roll of parchment—causing Barty to groan, outwardly this time, and rub his temples. "Now, now, nothing that's going to take up too much of your time," Dawlish consoled, noticing Barty's reaction. His eyes flickered across the letter, and then he folded it up quickly, handing it to Barty. "Stamford Jorkins noticed that you might find it—erm, _difficult_ —to seize a job within the community, so he has been kind enough to offer you a position as his assistant in the Administrative Registration Department."

Barty could think of nothing worse than spending five days a week with that short, bald man, who had grated on him enough during the brief appointment he had spent with him previously. But Dawlish was right—Barty would find it difficult to seek employment quickly. This might be his only chance. So, repressing another groan, he let Dawlish continue.

"If you accept this offer, you will be paid a total of one galleon and twelve sickles per hour, and you will work for seven hours a day. You are to arrive at the Ministry of Magic in smart attire by the Floo Network at no later than nine a.m., and you will depart by four in the afternoon. You may be asked to work overtime, in which case you will receive two galleons per hour," Dawlish continued.

Barty began to think of the small, stuffy office that Stamford had worked in, and he immediately felt claustrophobic. He had never worked a day in his life, unless you counted the year that he impersonated Alastor Moody at Hogwarts. Barty had gone straight from his school life to being a Death Eater, and then to Azkaban. After his break out, he had spent a great deal after that being trapped under an invisibility cloak with a foggy mind, and his only free year had seen him be returned to Azkaban once again. Really, all he wanted to do was stay at home and ignore any kind of socialisation at all—at least for now, anyway.

But he knew deep down that there was no way he was going to get into work any other way, especially not as fast as the Ministry expected him to.

With a heavy groan, he snatched the parchment out of Dawlish's hand. "I accept," he muttered, stuffing the letter into his pocket. Dawlish was beginning to grind on him now—when was he going to just leave?

"In that case, I shall see you shortly, Mr—" before Dawlish could continue, Barty had slammed the door on his face the moment he removed his foot from the doorway. There was the sound of muffled grumbling from the other side of the glass, and then the distinctive _pop_ of Dawlish disapparating.

Barty turned on his heel, and shouted up at the rafters. "Lovegood!" Almost immediately, he heard feet a few floors above him as she started to head downstairs. Once she appeared in front of him, he glanced at her up and down. She was still dressed in the jumper she had been boasting earlier, and to no surprise, it was still just as ridiculous.

He was overcome with a sudden swell of irritation. She was standing there, blinking up at him with her bulging, glittering grey eyes. He could sense no emotion from those wide, empty eyes.

He wasn't entirely sure what he expected from her, but what he did know was that she wasn't altogether acting like she had just been kidnapped. At the very most, he thought she should have been quivering; afraid of what he was going to do to her. She didn't know if she was going to live or die—she didn't know if her _father_ was going to live or die! How could she stand there, so calm, so composed?

"Yes?" she asked softly, in response to his calling her.

He glared down at her, once again overcome with irritation at her hidden strength in this situation. "Go make dinner," he muttered through gritted teeth.

She didn't even appear bothered by this demand. "I'm going to need my wand for that," she replied nonchalantly, glancing at his jacket, where she assumed he was keeping her wand.

"Nice try," he replied quietly. He leaned forwards, so that their foreheads bumped. She flinched slightly, and Barty could practically hear the blood thumping through her body, but she didn't react. "But you can do it manually, I think. Surely Daddy taught you some basic skills?"

"What do you want me to do?" she replied silkily, her eyes boring straight back into his.

"I don't care," he muttered back, and pulled his face away from hers. She turned on her heel and strolled away from him, heading straight into the kitchen. He followed after her for a while, and stood idly behind her as she began to search for vegetables and knock up a basic meal.

Everything was quiet aside from the dull sounds that Luna made as she cooked. Barty leaned against the wall, and smiled to himself.

So far, he was enjoying his time out of Azkaban.


	9. Sticks and Stones

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

 **Chapter Warning:** **Sensitive theme ahead - domestic violence.**

oOo

Luna had only spent three days at Barty's house so far, but it felt like a lifetime.

Every hour was a day long. Every minute, an hour. Every second took an age before it ticked along. There was nothing to do but avoid her captor when she wasn't being subjected to chores. The only thing she could do to cure her boredom while she was holed up in her bedroom was twiddle her thumbs, and idly stare out of the huge window as the sun went down.

All she had done during time spent out of the bedroom was cook and clean, and she was becoming bitterly aware that her hands were beginning to go numb. The more she spent cleaning Barty's already immaculate house, the more she began to feel extremely sorry for the Muggles who had to go about cleaning the manual way on a daily basis. She and her father did their own cleaning at home of course; they couldn't afford a house elf, and even if they could, they were both strong activists of Hermione's _SPEW_ motion, so such slavery was out of the question.

When faced with cleaning tasks at home, it was natural that Luna would use magic to aid her. But there was no chance of that whilst she was here—she hadn't even _seen_ her wand since she had been in the Burrow.

It was becoming painfully obvious that Barty was giving her cleaning tasks to do for his own entertainment. During the few occasions that she stole glances at him, she could tell that he was just as bored as she was.

As she looked out of her bedroom window once again, her thoughts were drawn to the memories of the last couple of days. She knew all too well that Barty had been doing his best to scare her since she arrived. It was unbeknownst to her just why he got off on the thought of her being terrified of his every move, but since she had worked out that making her fear him was his intention, she did everything to ensure that she didn't appear afraid.

Of course, he did scare her. He terrified her right down to the bone. Everything from the evil glint in his dull brown eyes; the manic smile he wore on his face; and the evident mood swings he went through on an almost hourly basis. One moment he would come across as quite indifferent, if not a little ignorant, but he would speak to her in a more refined, normal tone. However, within the next breath, he could be erratic, scary, constantly poking for a reaction out of her.

It took every ounce of strength within her to ensure that she kept her face as emotionless as possible when he was in one of his worse moods. She was sure, however, that if she kept the mask up for long enough, he would get bored of tormenting her eventually.

As she sat down, cross-legged, in front of the window, she noticed a gentleman in smart robes walking down the garden path. Her interest was suddenly piqued; she had seen this man arrive at the house once before, but she had been too wrapped up in her worries to take much notice. Now, however, she wondered if the man was from the Ministry.

Barty hadn't said anything to her about any level of extra attention he was getting from the Ministry, but it was likely that he was. She wondered if he wanted to make sure she didn't know about it, so he could continue trying to make her afraid. Of course, she would naturally be more afraid of him, if she thought there was no Ministry involvement.

Having a sudden thought, she lunged for her rucksack, delving her hand into it's magically enhanced depths. After a few minutes of vigorous searching, she retrieved what she was looking for. In her hand was a long, rubbery, thick piece of string—otherwise known as an Extendable Ear. She had been in possession of this Weasley merchandise since her fifth year, and always kept it in the bottom of her rucksack. Just in case.

Quietly, she slid open the top panel of the huge glass window. Once it was open, she could hear a low, muffled conversation happening below, but being so high up in the manor meant that there was no way of hearing it clearly—that is, if she wasn't in possession of her Extendable Ear. Carefully, she attached one end of the rubbery material into her own ear, and passed the other end through the gap in the window, giving her instant access to the conversation happening below.

She was glad to learn a few things whilst eavesdropping on them. Her theory had been correct—Barty _was_ receiving extra attention from the Ministry, in the form of a six month long security programme. This lifted her spirits a little. If she could work out a way to make her presence here known to the Ministry, they might do something to get her out of his clutches.

But her hopes soon plummeted as she continued to process this thought. Barty was an exceptionally intelligent wizard—she'd worked out as much from initially meeting him. He'd been clever; cautious with his words. She knew deep down, he wouldn't be able to be arrested for kidnapping her.

Technically, he hadn't done anything wrong. He had acted on an old vow that was essentially out of the Ministry's hands, and he hadn't taken her against her will. Luna had come with him willingly.

She sighed and resisted the urge to hurl the Extendible Ear out of the window as she pushed these distracting thoughts away. At least she knew that he couldn't do anything to hurt her or her family or friends whilst she was trapped here with him. Using an Unforgivable Curse or maiming someone without magic would land him in Azkaban if he was caught. Now that she knew the Ministry were keeping a close eye on him, she was sure he wouldn't really try anything too drastic.

When she noticed the Ministry official leaving, she dragged the Extendible Ear back inside the window quickly, and stuffed it in her bag. It was a good job too, as Barty appeared outside her door almost immediately after the Ministry worker had left, and flung it open. With an inward groan, Luna noticed that he had the manic glimmer in his eye, which usually signified one of his moods.

She didn't need to ask what he wanted. It was just after five p.m., she knew why he was here. It was the same thing every day.

"Go make dinner," he ordered, and waited for her usual response, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"I'm going to need my wand," she replied with a vacant sigh. If it entertained him so much to have this same performance every evening, she would go along with it. She felt a lot more confident now that she knew he was being given extra security, so it surprisingly wasn't as hard to act so fearless.

"No. You can do it like—"

"—like a Muggle, I know," Luna replied. She walked straight past him, and headed downstairs into the kitchen, preparing to make dinner. He tailed after her, keeping on her heels. Luna tried to speed up, feeling slightly uncomfortable at how close he kept to her, but his legs were longer.

When she finally reached the kitchen, he leaned against the wall as she began to remove various pots and pans from the cupboard. She could feel his gaze burning into her back, and she knew that he was determined to try and torment her. His mood had probably plummeted because of the Ministry visit, and now he was going to take it out on her. As she lit the stove with a match, she vowed to try her best not to antagonise him—at least, not deliberately.

His eyes followed her around the gleaming kitchen (it was gleaming because she had spent every day since she had arrived scrubbing it). Trying to ignore the painful feeling of being watched, she started to chop up a pair of carrots.

"I need to talk to you," Barty said suddenly, making her jump. She quickly composed herself, and continued to chop the carrots. She felt surprised—in all the time she'd been here, Barty hadn't spoken to her other than to tell her to clean up or make dinner, or make various prods to try and cause her to react. She felt herself swelling with curiosity at what he could possibly want to talk about, but she did her best to maintain a vacant equanimity.

For a few moments after he had spoken, the only sound echoing around the kitchen was the dull _thud_ of the knife against the chopping board. "Can you stop doing that for a moment?" he continued.

Luna bit down on her bottom lip. She only had to chop a little more until the carrots were finished. Without turning her attention to him, she continued to chop, trying to make the noises a little quieter.

"Stop it!" he suddenly hissed, lunging forward and grabbing her arm. In the shock of him shouting and then seizing the hand that was holding the knife, she spun around to defend herself. Before she could stop, her hand had wrenched itself out of his grip and swiped the knife across his face.

For a moment they seemed to be frozen in time. Barty was stood stock still, both hands still raised as if he were holding her. His face was utterly motionless, staring at her, as a trail of blood trickled from a shallow wound across his cheek.

Luna backed up until her spine hit the counter, while Barty continued to stare down at her. A new sense of fear was beginning to grow within her.

What had she done? Had she been too confident? She had forgotten that this man was a _murderer_. He'd done time in Azkaban already, what was to say he wouldn't automatically jeopardise his freedom? And on top of everything already—Barty Crouch Junior was _insane!_

These thoughts plagued Luna's mind all at once, blinding her. The knife fell out of her hand, where it landed on the tiled floor with a deafening clatter. She focused her eyes on his middle, and then slowly let them travel up his body until they reached his face, where they rested, wobbling with fear. It was the first time she had ever openly shown him that she was scared, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pull her emotionless mask over her face. She was open; vulnerable; _exposed_ to him. Her lips shook as she gripped the counter behind her with both hands, trying desperately to keep her gaze fixated on him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean t—"

Suddenly, the back of his hand connected with her cheek in a painful slap. The sound rang through her ears loudly, and she crumbled to the floor at his feet, clutching her cheek where he had hit her. She blinked down at his shoes as tears began to swim in her vision, spilling down her face.

She had expected that he would do something to hurt her eventually, but she hadn't really processed it properly. She watched, trying to cease her trembling, as Barty's boots retreated from in front of her, heading for the living room. When he reached the doorway, he spoke.

"I have to start work tomorrow," he told her, his voice sounding unnatural. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Luna continued to keep her gaze on the floor where his shoes had just been previously. He was trying to make her feel guilty. He wanted her to think what he had just done was her fault. She felt anger bubbling within her, a tiny, fiery spark in the depth of her pool of fear.

"I'll be away from nine until four," he continued stoically. "I expect you know that you should stay here, of course. The door will be locked and I will take your wand with me. If you're not here when I return, I will go straight to Ottery St. Catchpole."

"You won't kill him," Luna whispered, the angry spark giving her a small, surge of confidence.

"What did you say?" he replied, his voice dangerously quiet.

"You won't kill him," she repeated, snapping her gaze up to him suddenly. It took everything in her to maintain eye contact with him, but she forced herself to look him directly in the eye. He cocked an eyebrow sharply. "I know you have extra security. I know that wizard from the Ministry has to come and check up on you. You won't hurt anyone."

Barty remained where he was for a moment, as he processed her words. Then, he began to slowly walk over to her. She quivered slightly, the spark of confidence quickly dying out, and trying to fold herself up smaller, in the hope that he wouldn't attack her again.

Instead, he reached down and grabbed her by the upper arms, quickly hoisting her to her feet. She whimpered in discomfort, and he pulled her towards him, so their bodies were pressed against each other. When his face was right in front of hers, their foreheads pressed together uncomfortably, he spoke again.

"You underestimate me, Luna," he murmured. Luna stared back into his eyes for as long as she could, but there were tears streaming down her face. After a few moments, he released her, and she dropped back to the floor clumsily, like a rag doll.

As Barty stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door loudly behind him, Luna backed up against the kitchen counter, wrapping her arms around herself protectively.

This wasn't a game anymore. He might have been toying with her previously, trying to push her buttons to gage a reaction, but this was entirely different. She knew he was dangerous, but she hadn't really seen it before now.

She needed to get out of here. She needed to escape.

oOo

As soon as Barty reached his bedroom on the second floor, he slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, panting heavily.

He hadn't meant to do that. He hadn't meant to hit her.

Slowly, he headed towards the bed, peeling his clothes off as he did so. When he was down to his underwear, he fell forwards onto the bed, and buried his face in the pillow. He had just been so angry. The anger had overwhelmed him so suddenly, engulfed him in one swift, ferocious crimson tidal wave. He could barely remember how he'd felt at the time—there was just the blood, the anger. The blood, the anger. She'd just stood there, shaking. It was the first time he'd seen her look truly afraid.

But wasn't that what he wanted? To get that emotion out of her? To know that he could really, truly frighten her? To be the dangerous criminal he had been once before, scaring little girls out of their wits?

He had wanted that emotionless, vacant look wiped off her face. He had wanted to know that she could _feel_. However, now that he'd achieved just that, he wasn't really sure how he felt about it.

The sound of his hand against her face echoed in his brain, over and over and over again. He clamped his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to try and shut off the noise, but it was pointless. It was deeply ingrained in his mind, sounding louder than a gong. He screwed his eyes shut into the pillow, trying to lull himself into sleep.

As he tried to block the noise out of his head, images started to flood into his mind, covering his vision as if he were watching a black and white film.

 _He was under the invisibility cloak. Winky was holding his hand; soothing him. She was wearing an apron fashioned out of a chequered tea-towel, and he watched as she fished into the pocket and retrieved two small, boiled green sweets. She unwrapped one quietly and handed it to him, and he popped it into his mouth._

 _Chocolate limes. His favourite. His mind was flooded warmly with pleasant memories of his mother; who had always had a stash of his favourite sweets on hand._

 _But his vision was becoming foggy. He could hear the muffled voice of his father; instructing him what to do. Ordering him around the house; making him hide in closets and using silencing spells on him when visitors were around. Winky would try her best to cheer him up, but it was impossible in his cloudy brain._

 _There was a flash of white light, and his fathers face was in front of his. The Imperius Curse was physically painless, but inside his mind he was so trapped_ — _he was screaming, crying, begging not to be sucked into another mindless few hours under his fathers control..._

oOo

Luna remained sitting downstairs on the tiled floor of the kitchen. She had been sat there since Barty had vanished upstairs, too afraid to move in case he was lurking on the stairway.

First, she heard the shouts above her. He was angry; raging at something that wasn't there. Then the banging came, and she presumed he was breaking things in his bedroom.

But the worst of all was the screaming. A series of haunting, harrowing shrieks echoed from the rafters above her, piercing right into Luna's soul.

There was something terribly wrong with him, and Luna desperately wanted to be out of his grasp while he was like this.


	10. Working Like Muggles

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

 **Another casual reminder that you can find aesthetics and spoilers for the future of the Unfixables on my tumblr if you are interested! Search for me at screaming-fae.**

oOo

When Barty cracked open his eyes on Monday morning and looked over at the clock on the wall, the first thing he did was groan in discomfort. The clock read six-forty-five.

Just the sight of the clock was enough to put him in a terrible mood. He wasn't used to being forced to get out of bed. Whilst he was kept under lock and key by his father, he didn't really care what time Barty woke up, so long as he stayed out of his way. During his stay in Azkaban, he had absolutely no concept of time, so it was redundant back then.

But he did know that waking up at this early hour wasn't going to be easy, particularly when he had spent so much of the night in turmoil with various flashbacks and nightmares.

Stifling another groan, he rolled out of bed, looking back at the rumpled sheets longingly, and proceeded to get ready for his first day at work.

An hour and a half later, he was ready and prepared to jump into the fireplace to Floo his way to the Ministry. As he stood there, mentally checking that he had everything he needed, he thumbed his collar in discomfort. The Ministry robes that Dawlish had provided him with were _extremely_ uncomfortable; made from a cheap, stiff, starch material. The collar of his shirt felt like it had been preserved in cardboard for several years before Barty used it, and no matter how much he fiddled and bent the white fabric, nothing seemed to slacken it.

Pushing aside his troubles, he jumped into the fireplace. Within a few minutes, he was stepping out into the great Atrium.

Once again, he was a little stunned by the colossal size of the place. Ministry workers were streaming out of the fireplaces around him, bumping into him as they shoved past.

"What are you doing just standing there, you bloody dozy—" a mouse-faced old man with a shiny bald patch on the top of is head had just collided with Barty as he rushed forward towards the lifts. He was stunned into silence when he noticed who Barty actually was; his face flooding with recognition. Before Barty could open his mouth to give him a smart reply, the man had shuffled off quickly.

With a roll of his eyes, Barty started to slump forwards, heading for the lifts.

Within another ten minutes, Barty had found the room labelled _Administrative Registration Department_ , and was streaming his way down the corridor, ignoring the furtive glances that were being fired his way from every angle. Once he reached Stamford's office, he barged straight in without knocking.

He noticed straight away that several things had changed. For one, the room had been magically elongated by at least two metres lengthways. In the far side of the office, a small wooden desk had been set up, with a little painting of a sailboat hung up on the empty wall space for decoration. The painting was even worse than the one that Stamford already had up on the other end of the office, but Barty was in no position to complain about the décor. He assumed that the smaller, newer desk was his, and sat down on the chair heavily, awaiting Stamford's entrance.

Stamford turned up ten minutes late, bursting through the door looking sweaty and red-faced, and panting heavily. "Ah, Crouch. I saw you heading for the lifts, but I couldn't catch up with you," he gasped as he pulled off his travelling cloak. "I see you're acquainted with your desk."

Barty simply pursed his lips a little as he stared up blankly at Stamford, and chose not to reply. He was sat at the desk, wasn't he? Surely it was obvious that he had found it.

"Right, well," Stamford continued in a mutter. He headed over to his desk and threw himself down in the chair, leaning back and sighing gratefully. With his eyes closed, he retrieved his wand from a pocket in his robes and flicked it towards a shabby looking filing cabinet beside Barty's desk. The bottom draw flew open, stretching out much farther than the length of the actual cabinet, most likely due to an extension charm.

The draw was filled with equally shabby brown boxes, one of which began to levitate for a few yards, before landing with a dusty _pouff_ in front of Barty.

"That there is all of the marriage records for wizards and witches in Britain for the last two centuries," Stamford explained. "As you can see, those records have needed organising for a very long time. Unfortunately, everyone here has been busy, busy, busy, what with everything that's been going on. So, there is your first task. Go through that box and organise it for me."

Barty reached into the box and pulled out a marriage record at random. It was an extremely yellowing leaf of parchment, with the date _21_ _st_ _of August, 1891_ inscribed on the front in neat italics. He turned his attention back to Stamford again. "Organise them? Organise them _how_?"

"Oh, you know," Stamford replied with a wave of his hand. "Date order please, oldest to newest, and in two separate piles. Inter-magical marriages, and marriages to Muggles."

"That sounds a little specific," murmured Barty, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth. "After all, aren't the modern Ministry supposed to be against prejudice to Muggles nowadays? But here we are, giving them their own separate pile..."

Stamford released a hearty laugh. "Oh, Crouch, it's nothing cynical. The order comes from a higher source, but I'm sure it's all to do with good, organised filing."

Barty rolled his eyes, and turned back to the box. "Is this the only one you want organising?" he asked, reaching into his pocket for his wand.

"Oh, heavens no. The whole filing cabinet if you will please, Crouch. Might take you a few days. Oh, and," Stamford nodded meaningfully at the wand in Barty's hand. "Could you do it manually, please? The first box, at least. Just so that you get the hang of it, before you start throwing magic around willy-nilly."

Both of Barty's eyebrows shot up into his fringe. "You want me to do it like a—"

"—like a Muggle, please."

Barty sealed his lips together tightly, to prevent hurling a string of obscenities at Stamford. What Stamford had just said was very reminiscent of the many similar conversations he'd already had with Luna.

Gritting his teeth to prevent saying anything out of context, Barty pulled out a stack of records, setting to work in silence.

oOo

Several hours later, Luna was only just opening her eyes in the bright, sunlight filled bedroom.

She sat up slowly and squinted towards the window. It was a beautiful, summery day, and she could already see several mothers with their toddlers walking in the park over the road. After letting out a large yawn, she climbed out of bed and dressed quickly, before heading out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

After showering and redressing, she felt clean and alert. She tip-toed down the flights of stairs silently—she could remember Barty telling her that he would be starting work today, but she still didn't want to risk bursting in on him if he'd decided he wasn't going to go. When she arrived at the front door, she tentatively reached out to the doorknob, turning it to see if Barty had kept to his promise of keeping her locked in.

It didn't budge. As expected, she was locked in firmly. With a resounded sigh, she floated into the kitchen.

She was still slightly in shock at what had happened the day before yesterday. She had spent the whole of Sunday confined to her bedroom, and thankfully, Barty didn't call for her. As she crossed into the kitchen, she noticed the carrots that she had been chopping that night were still there, wilted and soggy on the chopping board. She sighed. He hadn't bothered to clean them up, even though it would've taken him mere minutes with magic.

As she crossed over to clear up the rotting food, she spotted a scrap of parchment left beside the chopping, containing a hastily scribbled note.

 _Luna,_

 _Today is my first day of work._

 _There is food in the cupboards. Clean and prepare dinner for 4pm._

 _If anybody comes to the door,_ _do not_ _make your presence known._

The note was unsigned, but Luna didn't need to be a genius to know who had written it. She screwed the parchment up in her palm, and threw it across the room, choking down her annoyance. She would clean the house (again) and cook his dinner, but for now she had something else to do, something that she could only hope to achieve while he wasn't in the house.

During the day that she had spent confined to her bedroom, she had taken out her writing supplies, and decided to write a long letter to Ginny. She had considered re-writing the letter she had scribbled to her father, but she didn't want to endanger him too much. She couldn't risk him knowing where she was and trying to find her, much less knowing about what had been going on. Instead, she just added a few notes to her father's letter, instructing him to relocate for now, possibly in Ireland where they had relatives, and entrust a close friend to be his Secret Keeper.

She was desperate to make sure that he would be kept safe.

The letter she had written to Ginny had been much longer, and unintentionally very emotional. After initially apologising for disappearing from the Burrow, and not writing sooner, she started to explain what had happened. She hadn't meant to detail everything that had happened to her, but she hadn't realised just how much she'd been bottling in her feelings about all of madness. As soon as her quill touched the parchment, she was spilling out her worries and fears to Ginny, before hastily folding it up and stuffing it into an envelope.

Only after she had written the letter, she'd began to wonder if telling Ginny about Barty hitting her was going to be a problem. Even though she had assured Ginny she was fine and fixed up now, she knew her best friend would worry nonetheless.

It wasn't a lie that she was completely fine. When she woke up the day after and brought her finger to her cheek, she noticed that the ache had completely gone from the place where Barty had backhanded her. Upon looking in the mirror, she noticed that the bruise had vanished too. There was no doubt about it—Barty had clearly sneaked into her room during the night and healed her.

Though, why he would do that still didn't make sense to Luna.

So, now that she had the house to herself, Luna began her search for an owl to deliver her letters to Ginny and her father. It was no easy task, being as the manor stood on four floors. She peered into every room, feeling a little worried initially, as if Barty had sensors in every room ready to go off and alert him that she'd been snooping.

However, after sneaking into the first few rooms, her conscience soon began to quieten. She was in awe of the artefacts that she was finding in some of the rooms, along with portraits of various Black family members whose dark, judgemental eyes followed her around.

Some rooms were locked tightly, which annoyed Luna immensely, as her curiosity was naturally piqued. After what seemed like forever, she finally came across a room at the very end of the third floor, and much to her delight, it was unlocked.

She slipped inside and closed the door sharply behind her, leaning against it. Upon casting a brief glance around the room, Luna knew immediately that it was Barty's room. The green bedcovers were hastily thrown back and unmade, and there were various clothes and objects strewn around the room. Her eyes continued to travel around the room, until they settled on a regular sized cage near the window, with a handsome grey owl inside it.

With a feeling as though she'd just hit the jackpot, Luna flew over to the owl excitedly. She was sad to discover that the poor thing didn't seem to have been looked after so well—it's cage was far too small for it, and it looked a little on the porky side. Clearly, Barty had been over feeding it, as both it's water and food tray were over flowing. She assessed the padlock on the cage, and pulled a hairpin from her hair. As soon as she began to fiddle with the lock—a trick that Harry had taught her during their time at Hogwarts—the owl hooted hopefully, fluttering it's wings.

After a moment, she found the niggle in the lock, and the padlock sprang open. The owl hopped out of the cage as soon as the door swung open, and looked up at Luna expectantly, clicking it's beak.

"I don't have any treats for you," she whispered, running her index finger softly along it's feathery head. She quickly pulled out the two letters, and fastened them to the owl's leg with a bit of twine that she'd found in her rucksack. "Please deliver these and get home before he comes home," she pleaded with the bird. As if in answer, it gave her a playful peck on the finger, and hopped towards the window that Luna had just opened.

She watched it soar away into the sky, until it was just a grey speck on the horizon.


	11. Starting a New Routine

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

When the clock ticked to four p.m., Barty couldn't fly out of the office fast enough.

He didn't clear away the boxes of reports manually, and he didn't care _what_ Stamford said about it. As soon as the time came for him to go home, he whipped out his wand and used a charm to return the dusty old boxes to the filing cabinet, taking care to place them in their new order so that he wouldn't get confused when he returned tomorrow.

Unfortunately, he still hadn't finished organising all of the reports. It unbelievable to think just how many witches and wizards had married within the last two centuries. It annoyed him intensely when he considered just why the Ministry needed records of these, and even moreso when he wondered why they needed these records _in order_.

Once his desk was clear and ready for his return the next day, he grabbed his cloak from the coat stand by the door, and made his exit. As he swung the door open, however, Stamford was just about to barge his way in.

"Oh, Crouch. Off home, are you?" He had an armful of paperwork, and didn't look like he was ready to go home at all. Barty eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes." Barty muttered through gritted teeth. It had been the longest day ever. All he wanted was to go home, dig out a bottle of Firewhiskey, and forget about this whole dire, boring day. He had just four days to go, and then he would have two days to himself. The sooner he got out of the Ministry now, the closer he would be to those precious days off.

"Ah. Shame. Could do with your help on something. But I see you've got yourself ready to go."

"Yes," he repeated. "Sorry."

"Don't suppose I could twist your arm for a few hours overtime—" Before Stamford could continue however, Barty had already loped past him, making no effort to look back. There was no way he was spending any more time than necessary here, whether or not he would earn extra galleons for his efforts.

As he pushed past various employees on his way to the Atrium, he speculated as to why people ever bothered to work, when they could just be break the law and get whatever they wanted that way.

Barty sighed wistfully. How boring his life out of Azkaban was doomed to be.

oOo

Several hours after she had sent off her letters, Luna was staring worriedly out of the window. The bird had not arrived back yet, and Barty was due to return home soon.

She had watched the skies nervously for a few hours, but after the bird hadn't returned promptly, she had resorted to completing some of the tasks he expected of her. At least if he found out that she had tried to make contact with any of her friends, he couldn't attack her for not cleaning and cooking for him.

In just a couple of hours, she had managed to clean every room she could actually get into—including Barty's, which she had initially been unsure about doing. On the one hand, he could be angry with her for going into his personal space, but on the other, he could be angry with her for not cleaning it at all. In the end, she had decided to risk it. She took extra care in changing his bedsheets, clearing up his discarded clothes and opening his curtains, letting in some natural light. She even disposed of the dry food and dirty water in the owl cage, and changed it (she had earlier found a small sack of owl seed in the kitchen cupboard).

At ten-to-four, she had managed to put together a simple meal of pasta bolognese, thanks to various ingredients that she had uncovered in the cupboards. Whilst making a mental note to politely mention to Barty that they needed more groceries before she could cook anything else for him, she deposited his meal onto the kitchen table.

Her own plate of food went onto a tray, which she prepared to take up to her room, as she had done every evening that she had been here so far. Before she headed upstairs, she quickly washed up the pans that were in the sink so that he would have nothing to complain about, and cast a glance around the room to make sure that there was nothing else he could pick up on. Once everything seemed fine, she checked the clock.

It was four. He would arrive at any moment.

Before taking her plate, she made a sudden dash up the stairs, deciding to check his bedroom one last time to see if the owl had returned. Her heart thumped hopefully, and she crossed her fingers almost painfully as she threw open the door—but there was no luck. The window was still wide open, the cage door still ajar, but no owl was waiting for her inside. With a nervous lump forming in her throat, she headed back downstairs to collect her dinner, trying not to think about how Barty would react when he discovered that she'd used his owl.

Just as she was crossing through the living room with her tray of food, a flash of green flames erupted in the fireplace, and she became aware that the Floo network was being used. She quickened her pace, desperately not wanting to have to interact with Barty—but once again, luck was not in her favour.

He stepped out of the fireplace, apparently unconcerned about leaving sooty black footprints on the recently cleaned carpet, and shrugging flakes of ash from his robes, muttering something about paperwork and reports and someone called Jorkins. As he started to remove his travelling cloak and the top layer of his robes, he didn't bother to even look over at Luna, so she did her best to try and sneak into the hallway before he could spot her.

"Hold it," he barked suddenly without turning around, causing Luna to freeze in the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?"

Luna turned around slowly, desperately trying to contort her face into the expressionless mask that she had been an expert at just a few days ago. Since he had struck her, it had been significantly harder to hide her emotions, but she wasn't going to give up trying. "To my room," she quipped in response, staring at the back of his neck, as he still wasn't facing her.

His head turned around suddenly, and her heart sunk at his expression. He was smirking, and there was a menacing glimmer in his chestnut eyes that could only mean trouble. "No, not tonight," he murmured, and threw his cloak and robes onto the sofa, afterwards proceeding to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt and slacken his tie. "Why don't you sit down at the table?" he asked, in a mocking, sweet voice. Luna held back the urge to chew on her bottom lip nervously.

As much as she wanted to run up to her bedroom and wait until Barty had gotten this mischievously dangerous mood out of his system, she didn't. It would be worse to argue with him, she knew, so she chose to do as he asked of her, and walked back into the kitchen, placing her tray on the wooden table, and sitting down in the seat at the far opposite of Barty.

She started eating slowly, but was soon distracted by the clanking of Barty's fork against his plate. When she looked up at him, she became slightly awestruck by the animalistic rate that he was devouring his meal, as if he hadn't been fed in days. After a few moments of her staring blankly at Barty, he glared up at her suddenly, and she quickly resumed eating before he could question her. There was no noise between them for the next ten minutes, other than the scratching sound of their knives and forks scraping against the ceramic plates.

Once they had both finished, Barty unexpectedly brandished his wand from his pocket, flourishing it in a circular motion over his head. Luna felt herself flinch automatically as if he was going to curse her, and he cocked an eyebrow in her direction, bemused. Instead, the plates and cutlery sprang from the table, and began to float across to the sink, which had started to fill itself with clean water. The plates slowly ascended into the water, and scrubbing brush rose from the draining board, beginning to work on cleaning the plates. Luna watched, slightly shocked—she felt as though this was her first time seeing magic. Barty generally called her down to clean up after dinner, so it was surprising that he was choosing to magically clean up, instead of making her do it manually.

Even though she was slightly happy that he was doing it the normal way, her stomach pooled with concern. This could mean nothing good—he was surely up to something.

It was soon evident that she had been right to be suspicious. A moment later, Barty gave another lazy flick of his wand towards a bottom cupboard, and two stout, clear glasses flew out and landed heavily on the table, followed by a large, unopened bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. As Barty pulled the glasses and the bottle towards him, the chair to the left of him suddenly flew out, as if a ghost had just sat down at the table. He looked across at Luna, and then nodded towards the empty seat, implying that she was to move and sit beside him.

She swallowed hesitantly. Even though this new game of his seemed pretty obvious, she still didn't know what to expect. Did he want her to _drink_ with him? Was he going to get ridiculously drunk and she would have to look after him? A hundred more questions coursed through her mind, but she awkwardly stood up nonetheless. It would be unwise to aggravate him while he seemed to be in a fairly mellow, if not slightly audacious mood.

So she sat beside him politely in the seat he had taken out, taking extra care to ensure that their knees didn't bump together beneath the table.

"Luna, have you ever drunk Firewhiskey before?"

Luna quickly shook her head. Roger Davis had once given her and some other fourth years a Chocolate Cauldron that had been laced with Firewhiskey once, but she had never drunk it willingly from a glass. She had witnessed people cringing at the strong taste, and the drunken aftermath was definitely not something she wanted to experience.

"Well, you're in for a treat. Today has been a terrible day, and extraordinarily _boring_ , you see. So I think that it's only necessary that we have a celebration drink—to my first day at work." He was grinning greedily at the bottle, as he uncorked it and began to pour some into one of the glasses. Luna's breath hitched in her throat as he tipped the bottle into the second glass, pouring a hefty measurement.

"I have to drink?" she questioned apprehensively. Luna wanted nothing more than to retire upstairs to her peaceful bedroom, as far away from the man who was undoubtedly going to become a drunken and dangerous wreck this evening. She wanted no part in this, but she didn't need to hear his response to know what it would be.

"Yes," he replied sternly. He rapped one of the glasses with his wand, and it slid across to Luna. Slowly, he lifted his own glass to his lips and downed the entire measurement in one mouthful, proceeding then to slam the glass down on the table heavily. He smirked over at Luna, and it was eerily reminiscent of the smirk that he had given her on the night she had come to this house with him.

"You're going to have fun with me tonight, Luna," he assured her, as he began to pour another measurement into his glass. "I promise."


	12. Firewhisky Haze

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

When Luna took the first, tentative swig of the amber-coloured fluid, it was horribly harsh. It cascaded coolly across her tongue initially, but burnt her throat as she forced down the mouthful. It was an awful, smoky taste, and she shuddered as she swallowed. When she placed the cup down after the first sip, she glanced over at Barty, and he offered her a leering smile.

"Drink up," he murmured dangerously over the rim of his own glass.

Soon she was swallowing mouthful after mouthful, and although the drink wasn't particularly nice, it soon lost the bitter aftertaste. It didn't have the sweet, frothy taste that she associated with Butterbeer, but after the second glass, then the third, and then the fourth, she noticed that it was flowing down her neck easier, in a more silky manner. She wouldn't go as far as to say she was enjoying the beverage, but it was certainly much more tolerable than it had been to start with.

As they drank together silently, Luna wondered idly just what it was about him that made his moods flicker from one extreme to the other. He was acting so differently, that it was difficult to believe that this was the same person who had hit her just the other day. Part of her wondered if he was feeling bad, and this social interaction was a way of rectifying his mistake, but deep down she knew that she didn't believe that. Barty had been a _Death Eater_ , and a notorious one at that. He had done a lot worse than backhand a girl, so why on earth would he feel bad about it?

Her thoughts continued to flow, albeit slightly groggily due to the alcohol. The image of Barty's owl soon swam into her mind, and she wondered vaguely if he would get drunk enough to even forget he had an owl by the time he went to bed.

Luna, however, had been hoping that she wouldn't get drunk. She didn't want to forget herself or her values, or get herself into an inebriated state.

But it was inevitable. Unbeknownst to Luna during their drinking session, Barty had been magically refilling the bottle of Firewhisky as the hours went on. She didn't notice at the time, but she did become aware of several changes to her body and mind. Her head was foggy; thoughts weren't coming to her as smoothly as they had been before. Her vision blurred, and her blood pumped loudly, like a deafening drumbeat in her ears.

"I thought about you today, Luna," Barty drawled as he poured another substantial amount of Firewhisky into her glass. "I was thinking about a conversation we had a few times. Do you remember?" His hair was hanging into his face as he leered over at her, wearing a wide smirk.

Luna smiled—a real smile. The feeling of her mouth stretching felt almost alien to her, it had been so long since she had smiled. "A conversation? I don't think we've ever had a conversation before—until now, that is—what are you doing?" she asked suddenly. The alcohol was making her stumble over her words, and she had just become aware that Barty's hand had crept under the table and was now resting on her thigh. Her brain was so unclear that she didn't even dwell too much on why he was touching her. It was strangely pleasant, having such a foggy mind. At the moment, she felt like she didn't have any worries. She didn't feel trapped here. She wasn't even flashing back to his attack on her the other day. All she had to do was let herself sink into the satisfying numbness that the alcohol was providing her.

"I suppose it wasn't really a conversation," Barty continued, ignoring her last question, proceeding instead to relay part of his day, which included his boss, Stamford Jorkins, asking him to complete his required tasks like a Muggle—hence, it was very coincidental to what Barty had been telling Luna to do since she had arrived.

In any other situation, Luna would have been extremely indifferent to this. It wasn't exactly funny that Barty had been told to work like a Muggle, but in a way, it did serve him right. It was because of that—and probably because of the alcohol—that Luna started to laugh hysterically at what he'd just told her, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

It was nice to feel an emotion other than constant confusion or gloom. It was nice to laugh and laugh and laugh, as if she were with a friend, and not a maniac. It was nice to just feel light and airy again, not worried about anything and everything. In that moment, it made sense to her why people became alcoholics. What an easy way it was to avoid your problems.

While Luna wiped tears away from her face, Barty stood up and pulled her to her feet. "You're drunk and flustered," he told her. His words were serious, but there was still a distinct air of bemusement to his voice. "Perhaps you should go to bed."

Luna coughed several times to try and choke down her laughter, and pushed Barty's hands away from her once she had climbed to her feet. "I can get myself to bed, I think," she assured him, trying to keep her voice steady. She staggered across the living room to the stairway, while Barty remained in the kitchen, watching her with one eyebrow raised. No sooner had Luna reached the bottom of the stairs, when she tripped over her own feet and fell face first onto the carpet.

She was silent for a few moments. As Barty crossed over the living room towards her, she started laughing into the carpet. He reached down, placing his hands on her waist, and hauled her to her feet. He steadied her once she was stood up, holding her securely by the upper arms, and looked down at her.

For several minutes they stared back and forth at one another, their eyes flickering across each others faces. Luna noticed, for the first time ever, that Barty had flashes of amber in his chocolate brown eyes. She felt as though she was being lured into them, like a magnetic pull. "I think I have had too much to drink," she murmured slowly, trying to prevent her yes from glancing towards his mouth.

Quickly, she shook herself out of his grasp, and started to head up the stairs behind her. Slowly and clumsily she managed to get up to the final floor, pushing open her bedroom door once she did. It was late now—the moonlight was streaming through the window, casting milky shadows around the room. Her bed was calling out to her, and she gratefully threw herself down on the spongy mattress, letting her head rest on the pillow. The bed felt more comfortable than it had ever before.

She was being lured into the captivating pull of sleep when the creak of the door disturbed her. When she cracked her eye open, she could see Barty looming towards her in the moonlight. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a croaky voice.

"I wasn't finished talking to you," he murmured, but his voice sounded thick and dreamlike in Luna's mind. She was so tired.

The bed sank slightly as he sat down beside her. She rolled over onto her back, staring up at the dark, silky ceiling of the four-poster bed. It was frothing and spinning, as if she were at the bottom of a deep ocean, gazing at the waves up above.

"I don't understand you," she heard her slurred voice saying. Words were flying out of her mouth without consulting her brain first. "You've been so cruel...you speak to me like...I guess, I just don't know why you made me come here with you...I don't know what you want from me." She turned her head from the watery ceiling above her to face the man who had sat down on the bed. He laid back on the pillow beside her, and closed his eyes.

"Will I ever get to go home?" she continued amiably, watching him carefully, even though her eyelids were desperately trying to fall shut.

"I don't know, Luna," he muttered. The sneering amusement in his tone was gone now, as it had been since he arrived up the stairs. He sounded tired too, but in a different way. As though he wasn't just tired of the day, but tired of a lot more than what met the eye.

He was lying flat on his back now, with his eyes shut tightly. Luna had never seen him look this peaceful—it was strange to believe that this was the man that had done all those terrible things he was convicted of. His hand was resting on his chest, his breathing was slow and steady, and she could see a shadow of stubble on his neck and chin.

Slowly, she allowed her eyes to fall shut. In her sleepy haze, she was aware that Barty had turned onto his side, and was edging closer to her. His hand fell on her waist, but she was too tired to flinch, and he pulled her towards him, his other arm burrowing it's way underneath her and winding around her shoulders. Before she knew it, she had her cheek pressed against his chest, and she could hear his steady heartbeat in her ear.

It was so wrong. Luna hated this man, and she was pretty sure he didn't like her much either. But as they lay there together in the dark under the ocean-like roof of the four-poster bed, nothing had ever felt more right. When she thought about the things he had done, she detested him so intensely, but she felt wonderfully peaceful as she lay here beside him.

He buried his face in her neck and hair, and let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Barty?" she whispered into the darkness. Once again, her mouth was speaking before her brain had processed it.

"Mmm?" he murmured into her neck. She felt his breath tickling her skin.

"What makes you..." she took a breath before continuing. "...what makes your...what goes on in your head?"

Barty didn't reply for several moments, and Luna became mildly aware of what sounded like bats flying around outside the window. Finally, she felt his jaw move against her neck, as he started to speak again. "Sometimes my mind takes me back to bad times in my life," he told her in a strangled, broken voice. "I feel like I'm really there. And most of the time I can't get out of it."

Luna didn't really understand what he had just said, but she made the wise choice not to pursue it. His grip loosened on her as he began to fall asleep, and after a few minutes Luna felt herself falling back into the lulling sense of sleep. Before she fell into it, a few final thoughts crossed her mind.

She had suspected that something was amiss with Barty, but now it seemed that it was a definitive fact. There was something dreadfully broken within him.

oOo

When Barty felt daylight streaming through his eyes the next morning, he bolted up suddenly.

The room was bright—much brighter than he was accustomed to on a morning. He squinted towards the window, and slowly clarity began to seep back into his vision, and he became aware that he wasn't in his own bedroom.

He looked around the room, which he recognised to be the repainted one of his mothers, and felt his stomach sink a little. Slowly, he turned his head to the side of him—and sure enough, Luna was laying there beside him.

Memories of the previous night flooded back in one swift, fast wave. He was greeted with a thousand images playing out in his mind, all of which included Luna. He remembered helping her up from the floor where she fell, and feeling strangely attracted to her when his hands were around her waist. In their drunken stupor, he had found her incredibly pretty as she stumbled up the stairs, her cheeks rosy from the alcohol, and her long blonde hair framing her face gently.

Barty had never had much time for women when he left school. He had been with a few women sexually, but never really made much of an effort with them. His time was devoted to the Dark Lord back then, so he had no particular interest in the opposite sex.

He continued to look down at Luna, who was still sleeping. He knew that nothing had happened between them, as they were both fully dressed and sleeping on top of the covers. When he thought about the possibility that they could have slept together, his stomach churned again. She was _half_ his age—it just wasn't appropriate to be having thoughts like that.

Nevertheless, he didn't particularly want to be trying to discuss their drunken few hours last night, so Barty quietly climbed out of the bed, so as not to disturb her. After picking his shoes up from the floor, he carefully edged out of the door and headed downstairs.

Whilst he was devouring some breakfast, Barty began to feel irritated at himself for his behaviour last night. He cursed himself—it had been stupid to bring Luna into his drinking endeavours last night. All he had done was open himself up and made them both emotionally vulnerable, and now things between them were surely going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

"Way to go at making things even more difficult," he muttered to himself as he threw an empty dish into the sink. He glanced at the clock, and mentally cursed himself even more. It read eight-forty-five _,_ meaning he was going to be late, if he didn't get a move on. It was only his second day at work, so arriving late would definitely not do him any favours.

Before making any effort to get ready, he glanced up at the ceiling, where Luna would be sleeping some floors above, and raked his fingers through his hair. The kind of behaviour that they had engaged in couldn't continue. It had been a one-off, and that's how it had to stay.

He made a mental note to have a serious talk with Luna when he returned home, before making a dash around the house to pick up any last things, and jumped into the fireplace.


	13. Letters of Love

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

 _Tap, tap, tap._

It wasn't until the afternoon when Luna finally opened her eyes. The sun didn't appear to be shining anymore outside, and a mass of steely grey clouds had accumulated in the sky. It was getting later in the year now, and the promise of rain lingered in the air.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

Luna's head throbbed as her body grew accustomed to the feeling of being conscious. She pushed herself into a sitting position slowly, and rubbed her eyes with her fists.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

Was this what they called a hangover? She had never felt a headache like this—every nerve ending was pulsing and aching. Luna momentarily prayed that Barty would never ask her to drink like that again. Whilst the experience of actually being drunk had felt somewhat euphoric, the after effects certainly weren't worth it.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

What was that incessant tapping noise? Bracing herself for the impact of daylight streaming into her pupils, Luna shot a glance over at the large window.

Suddenly, her heart swooped with relief. Sat on the window ledge outside was the large owl, clutching an envelope in his beak. Luna temporarily forgot about her pounding hangover and dived away from the bed to wrench the window open. As soon as it was given entry, the owl hopped inside the bedroom, dropping the envelope on the floor by her feet. Luna scooped it up excitedly, and hurried back over to her bed.

As she was beginning to carefully tear open the envelope, the bird fluttered onto her bed and hooted up at her, clicking it's beak expectantly. "I don't have anything for you," she told the owl, trying to shoo it away. It pecked at her fingers gently, and Luna threw the envelope aside. "Oh, come on then," she muttered. "I'll take you to your cage."

The bird jumped onto her arm as she stood up, clutching at her skin with his talons, and she slowly tip-toed down the stairs to Barty's room. As she placed her free hand on the door handle, she hoped desperately that Barty hadn't been inside and discovered that the owl was gone.

Her heart gave another relieved lurch when she saw that the bedroom was indeed untouched. It was still as clean and neat as it had been since she had tidied it the day before. Feeling thankful, she crossed over to the window, and deposited the owl back inside it's cage, hurriedly padlocking it back up.

She smiled back down at the bird once it was safely locked up once again. It was like it had never even happened. As the owl began to dig into the owl seed that Luna had replaced the tray with yesterday, she left Barty's room and rushed back upstairs.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

Luna looked straight across to the window, and to her shock, she discovered that there was another, fist-sized owl fluttering around behind the glass. She ran across to the window and opened it once again, and the owl jumped inside, looking up at her proudly with an envelope in it's beak.

She recognised the tiny bird—it was Pidwigeon, Ron's owl. She stroked Pig's feathery head gently, and took the envelope from it's beak. Instead of nagging her for a treat, he decided to commence swooping around the room manically, tittering at the top of his tiny lungs.

Luna threw herself down on the end of the bed and studied both of the envelopes. After analysing the handwriting on each one, she knew that the one featuring small, neatly-joined script belonged to Ginny, and the second one boasted the tall, slanted handwriting of her father. Taking a deep breath, Luna chose to open the one that belonged to her father first.

 _Dear Luna,_

 _You did not have to lie to me, sweet child. I know you are not as safe as you proclaim to be. Only a day before your letter arrived, The Weasley family arrived at our home in Ottery St. Catchpole. They wanted to know if you had returned home, as you had vanished from The Burrow during the night._

 _Please darling, give some sign as to where you are. I contemplated sending an owl to you before you had written to me, but I didn't want to risk putting you into unnecessary danger. I am no longer at our home in Ottery_ — _at your request, I have left England and relocated._

 _Where are you, my darling? Please let someone know, so that you can be saved. You can join me out of the country_ — _we will be safe, then. I promise you. If he has done anything to cause you harm then we can contact the Ministry at once, and he will be sentenced back to Azkaban._

 _I love you dearly,_

 _Your father,_

 _Xenophilius Lovegood_

Luna's eyes sparkled with tears when she finished reading the letter. It was so sad for her to see just how worried her father was about her welfare. She automatically felt terrible for lying about her safety in her first letter—she should have known that the Weasleys would have made an impromptu visit to her family home. Some of her closest friends were staying there, and Molly would have been worrying desperately from the moment that she discovered an empty bed.

Her intention had been to ease her father's pain by lying to him about her safety, but she knew now that she had probably increased it. He would be sure that she was in danger now, particularly if she had felt the need to lie to him.

For the next several moments, she read and reread the letter several times, tracing her finger over the carefully written lines and letting her tears spill down her face. Her father was often difficult to live with, and he hadn't been as great at taking care of her as her mother had, but she did love him with all her heart, and she knew that he only wanted the best for her.

She wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve, and carried both of the letters to the floor. She dug around in her rucksack until she found her writing supplies, and set to writing a prompt reply to her father. As she looked over at the hooting, happy owl that was whizzing around the bedroom at top speed, she inwardly thanked Ginny that she had sent Luna a letter. With Pig came the opportunity to send letters without using Barty's owl, and that filled her with so much relief.

 _Dear Daddy,_

 _I'm so sorry I lied to you. I just wanted you not to worry about me, so that I wouldn't cause you any pain_ — _but I know I may have made it worse for you._

 _I am safe, I promise you. I am with Barty Crouch, but I am safe. He keeps me comfortable in a nice bedroom, and he doesn't hurt me. He works at the Ministry and I am left to my own devices throughout the day._

 _I am glad you're staying out of the country. Please don't tell me where you are_ — _it's safer for you if you keep it to yourself._

 _This may be my last letter for a while. I miss you so much. Please don't worry about me too much._

 _Love, Luna_

Luna folded the reply to her father back up quickly before she could change her mind about what she had written to him. Giving her tear-streaked face another wipe with her sleeve, she moved onto the letter that was from Ginny. It was thicker, giving Luna the impression that it was probably a much longer letter.

She slid the letter out of the envelope, hoping that Ginny's words would provide her with a little more comfort.

 _Luna,_

 _WILL YOU PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU'RE ALIVE?!_

 _You stupid, stupid girl! I can't believe you just vanished from the Burrow in the middle of the night with no word of warning! We are all beside ourselves, wondering if you're okay or not. There was absolutely no trace of you in Percy's room when we went up to look for you the next day, so we're all expecting the worst! We've searched for miles around the Burrow looking for you_ — _we even went to your father._

 _Oh Luna, he told us everything. He explained about this Vow thing, and the connection to Barty Crouch Jr. As you can imagine, Harry is really, really angry about the whole thing. He's already had a meeting with Kingsley, trying to get the Azkaban release revoked, because of the Carrows and Barty especially, so this is just adding more fuel to his cauldron._

 _After we figured out that you have probably been kidnapped by Barty, Dad made some enquiries about Barty Crouch at the Ministry. I don't know whether you're aware or not, but he's working there now, and some guy called John Dawlish is a WatchWizard for him. Dad didn't tell Dawlish about the Vow, but he talked about you, and Dawlish seems to be aware of the connection between you, and mentioned the Vow. He said that the Ministry can't act unless you were taken against your will. We asked if he had seen you on his visits to the Crouch house, but he said no. He wouldn't give us an address for him, either._

 _Were you taken against your will? Did he kidnap you, Luna? You can tell us, you know you can. We can help you put an end to this immediately if he did!_

 _However, now that we know he works at the Ministry, everyone is going to do everything they can. Obviously, Dad is there all the time, he's going to keep an eye out, and we wrote to Percy and he said that he would do what he could too, seeing as he's working with Kingsley nowadays. Harry and Hermione are spending a lot of time there too, so they're going to do what they can. You might be wondering about Ron_ — _he's decided to put off his Auror training to help George out with the shop._

 _Bill and Fleur have offered their services too. They're going down there this week_ — _they have to register their marriage seeing as they had no time to do it last year, so they're going to the Administration Department, or something like that. They might be able to ask about him and see what he's getting up to._

 _Please try not to worry too much. I won't let you in on a lot through a letter, in case I put you in danger_ — _but Hermione thinks she might have come up with a great plan, which we are going to put into action as soon as possible. Even though we don't know where you are, Dad is pretty sure that the Crouch family lived north of London. Someone in his department visited Crouch Senior about twenty years ago, and even though he doesn't remember where it was, he said it was definitely a Black household before it belonged to the Crouches. Harry is pretty sure that there will be records of all the houses that belonged to the Blacks at Grimmauld Place, so he's going down there this week to dig them out and see if he can find an address for a house passed to the Crouch family._

 _I hope to Merlin he hasn't hurt you, or I swear I will kill him!_

 _So, we're staying on top of things. As you can see, I've sent Pig with this letter. Ron isn't that fond of him anyway, and to be honest, I think you need him more right now. If there is an owl wherever you're staying, I'm pretty sure you won't be allowed to use it, so Pig can be of service. He's small enough to hide up your jumper, too._

 _Stay strong and try to write to me as often as you can._

 _All my love,_

 _Ginny and family_

Luna was breathing heavily by the end of Ginny's letter. She hadn't been wrong in thinking that Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys would be worrying about her. It was just the type of wonderful, caring people that they were. Whilst she did initially panic about the prospect of her friends poking around the Ministry for further information on Barty, she decided to put it to the back of her mind for now. Surely her friends wouldn't be stupid enough to rush up to Barty and start accusing him of things.

But even though she was absolutely sure they wouldn't go about it that way, she couldn't help but feel that something bad was going to happen.

Pig's hooting brought Luna's attention back to the moment, and she looked over at the bird, which was hopping around her on the floor. "I'll have something for you to send back in a minute," she assured the bird. She glanced at the clock on the wall, which read that it was two o' clock. Barty would be home by four, and she was sure that he would be expecting her to prepare dinner again.

Scanning over the letter from Ginny one more time, she grabbed another sheet of parchment and dipped her quill in the ink, preparing to write a letter to her best friend. She did her best to keep the letter short, as Pig was becoming impatient. She assured Ginny that she was perfectly safe and there was nothing dreadful to worry about, she apologised for causing them all such a great deal of worry, and told her that she had decided to willingly accompany Barty back to his house. Before folding the letter up and sealing it in an envelope, she added a final note to insist that Ginny only sent Pig with letters through the day, to ensure that Barty wouldn't find out she was communicating with people.

Finally, Luna had two envelopes in front of her, one with _Xenophilius Lovegood_ printed on the front, and the other with _Ginny Weasley_. She gave Pig another gentle stroke, and he picked up both of the envelopes, clamping down on them protectively with his beak. He gave one final, muffled hoot, and fluttered up the window, soaring away from the house.

Luna allowed the feeling of relief to seep over her. Things seemed to be looking up. Barty had been—well, not horrible - the night before, and he hadn't found out about Luna using his owl. Ginny and her family seemed to be stirring something up to try and get her out of this situation, and while she was a little worried about what they might do, she tried to convince herself that they wouldn't make the situation worse. But best of all, Ginny had sent Pig. That meant so much—she could communicate with her friends and whoever she liked, and Barty didn't even have to know about it.

After she stuffed her belongings back into her rucksack and put it back into the corner of the room, she threw herself back down on her bed, sighing gratefully.

She only hoped that things would continue to get better from now on.


	14. Plan of Action

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

 **AN** **: This is the only event of a POV change to someone other than Barty or Luna, but it is necessary! Just a warning so as to not confuse anyone.**

* * *

oOo

"Bill, you're here early!" Arthur Weasley exclaimed loudly out of the kitchen window of the Burrow. Bill Weasley and his wife, Fleur, were striding across the garden, arm in arm. Bill was dressed in neat, deep green robes, and Fleur was boasting her swollen, pregnant stomach in a pretty blue dress, her blonde hair fastened up in an elaborate style. They were well attired for their visit to the Ministry of Magic—neither spent much time there, so they weren't altogether sure just how to dress for a meeting.

Fleur had decided that the only way to dress in the event of not knowing the code, was to dress to impress.

Bill thumbed the tight collar of his velvet robes as he waved back at his father. Arthur hurried round to the door and threw it open, pulling his eldest son into a hug as soon as he entered. "Good to see you, good to see you—and Fleur, you've...erm..." Arthur's eyes travelled down to her large baby bump, and then back up to her face.

"Yes?" Fleur snapped, her pale blue eyes boring into Arthur and her hands springing to her hips.

"Erm...you look..."

"Bill! Fleur!" another voice sounded from behind Arthur. Mrs Weasley bustled past Arthur, and swooped Fleur into an embrace. Once she backed away from her daughter-in-law, she held her by the shoulders, looking down at her stomach. "Oh, I'm so excited for my first grandchild!" she exclaimed, delighted. "I must say, Fleur—you can hardly even tell that you're pregnant!"

Bill and Arthur exchanged glances with each other as Fleur's face split into a wide smile, and she gave Molly another grateful hug. Fleur was coming up to her seventh month, and there was no hiding her enormous stomach now—but the men seemed to know better than to question what Molly had said.

The matriarch and the patriarch of the Weasley family led Bill and Fleur into the living room, where Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were all sitting around the coffee table. Ginny was sitting between Harry's legs on the floor in front of the sofa, with a look of disdain on her face. Harry twirled a lock of her hair around his finger softly. "Don't worry, Gin. We're going to get her back."

"Hey, family," Bill greeted as he entered the living room. Hermione nudged Ron sharply when Fleur floated in behind him, and his ears tinged pink as he jumped out of his seat. Fleur gave him a kindly smile, and fell back heavily onto the couch.

Percy hurried down the stairs when he heard the commotion, and George followed him shortly after. Once everyone in the Burrow was all in the same room, they chatted animatedly for a few moments, until Ginny stood up, hushing everyone.

"Can we stop pretending like this is just a little family gathering," she told them, an air of distress in her voice. "And lets go through the plan."

"There isn't really a _plan_ , Gin." Bill muttered. He was standing behind Fleur, and he let his hand stroke her shoulder idly.

Bill and Fleur were heading down to the Ministry to register their marriage, but they also had to register the baby that was soon to be born. They had received a letter from a Mr Stamford Jorkins three weeks ago, with specific instructions as to which office to visit, and what documentation they needed to bring to the appointment.

Upon learning that they would be around the Ministry, Mr Weasley had asked them to help out with their attempt to locate Barty Couch Jr. He had already alerted Bill and Fleur of Luna's situation via a long, detailed letter, and they were both happy to keep a sharp eye out for any sighting of him.

Mr Weasley stood in the centre of the living room and gestured for Ginny to take a seat. She scowled up at her father momentarily, but after a stern glance from her mother, she flung herself down in front of Harry again. "Okay, family. This is the only day that so many of us will be at the Ministry at one particular time, so it's the perfect day to try and get some information on Crouch.

"Unbreakable Vow or not, we're not going to let Luna stay with that dangerous man—I don't care if Kingsley or the rest of his circle think that redemption is a good idea. He is a murderer and a criminal, and insane to boot—Luna is our friend, and we're going to get her out of there.

"I checked out the Lovegood house yesterday afternoon, and it seems that old Xeno has abandoned ship. I've no idea where he's gone, but it's probably for the best." Mr Weasley eyed Ginny as he finished his sentence.

Ginny sniffed contemptuously. She had made it quite clear in the last couple of days just how irritated she was with Xenophilius Lovegood after finding out the truth about the Vow and Barty Crouch Jr. It had become a common occurrence for Ginny to just walk up to the nearest person in the Burrow, and stress how much of a coward she thought he was.

"Yes it is a good thing," she grumbled. "If he was still living over the hill, I'd of Bat-Bogey-Hexed him into next week." Ron gave her a sharp nudge with his foot, but there was a shadow of a grin on his face.

Mr Weasley ignored her comment, and continued to speak. "I'm on duty all day, so I'll be flitting between offices; nowhere specific. So I might end up wherever he's working. Percy, where are you based today?"

"I have an audience with the Minister today, Father," Percy replied smugly. "I'll be on Level One all day. We're discussing the recent mass misuse of Portkeys in Scotl—"

"—Yeah Perce, we get it," George interrupted, miming a yawn. "You're going to be sucking up to Kingsley _all_ day."

Percy flushed a deep red. "You really shouldn't be so rude about the Minister for Magic—"

"—Arthur!" hissed Molly meaningfully, over the top of George and Percy's bickering.

"—Boys!" Mr Weasley cut in, holding his hands up. "You two are far too old for this nonsense!" Once Percy and George had quietened, Mr Weasley took a breath, and continued. "Hermione, where will you be based today?"

"Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Entities," Hermione replied, sounding slightly apologetic. She dug a hand into her pocket, and pulled out a pale pink pamphlet. The SPEW motion is really kicking off, especially now that Kingsley has agreed to support it with Ministry funding. However, I think it's highly unlikely that I'll find Barty Crouch frolicking around with the House Elves."

Ron sniggered.

"No, no, I suppose not. But still, keep your ears and eyes alert—one of your fellow employees may know of something. Word is that the Ministry are contemplating rehiring Pius Thickness, and I know that Stan Shunpike has been given his position back on the Knight Bus. I don't know about the Carrows or the Lestranges as of yet, but it would be good to know where they're being placed.

"Harry?" Arthur continued.

"I'll be in the Auror office."

"That just leaves Bill and Fleur," finished Arthur, looking over at his oldest son.

"You know where we'll be," replied Bill. "Administrative Registration Department. I don't know how long the meeting will be, but we'll stay alert."

"Yes, well. I think it's more likely that you'll find Crouch amongst the House Elves than you will in Stamford's dingy little office, but it's still an area that needs to be searched," Arthur concluded, and glanced over at the clock. "Right, well, it's eight-forty-five—I think we should be off."

Mr Weasley, Percy, Harry and Hermione headed over to the fireplace, before waving their goodbyes to the rest of the family. One by one, they jumped into the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, and shouted "Ministry of Magic!" before they were engulfed in a burst green flames. Once they were gone, Bill and Fleur headed into the kitchen.

"Good luck, sweetheart," Molly told her oldest son quietly, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. She must have spotted a dirty mark on his face, as she quickly licked her thumb and started rubbing at his cheek vigorously. Bill backed up, grinning.

"Mum, I'm not a little kid anymore," he told her, laughing. "I'll see you at dinnertime."

"Goodbye, _mama_ ," Fleur bade her mother-in-law, and she and Bill headed out into the back garden.

oOo

Within minutes, Bill and Fleur had disapparated together from the Burrow, and had appeared outside a red telephone box on a quiet, secluded street in central London.

"What is this, _mon cher_?" Fleur muttered, casting a disapproving gaze on the phone box.

"The visitors entrance." Bill replied. He led Fleur into the phone box, and pulled the door shut behind him. He then proceeded to lift the telephone to his ear, and spell out the combination of _six-two-four-four-two_ , spelling out 'magic', onto the keypad.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," the smooth, cool tones of the Welcome Witch flooded the telephone box. "What are the means of your visit today?"

"We're here to register our marriage," Bill replied clearly.

"How many visitors are here today?"

"Two."

There was a clicking and a shuffling noise around them, and then two red, button-sized badges slid out into the little black compartment where spare change would normally go. Bill scooped them out and they both fastened the badges, which read _'Visitors: Admin Registration Dept.'_ in a clear white font.

"Thank you very much," Bill said politely into the telephone, before returning it to its original position.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day." With that final statement, the line went dead, and there was a rickety, crumbling sound all around them. Fleur gave a sudden shriek and grabbed onto Bill's arm as the telephone box began to sink slowly into the ground.

"Calm down, Fleur," Bill muttered with a small laugh. "You've seen magic before."

"I am used to flying by Abraxan 'orse, Bill," Fleur hissed, continuing to grip her husbands robes, as the light in the telephone box began to dim as they descended further beneath the pavement. "Not being lowered into the pit of ze earth!"

Bill rolled his eyes, but gave his wife a peck on the cheek regardless.

Not long after, they climbed into the lift within the Ministry, and Mr Weasley suddenly swooped in behind them. When the grilles closed, he gave the couple a little nod. The lift shot down further into the depths of the Ministry, and eventually ground to a halt. "Administration Registration Department," spoke the Welcome Witch over an intercom system coolly.

The grilles snapped open again, but before Bill and Fleur could head off, Mr Weasley leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Good luck, Bill," he muttered quietly, so that the other employees in the lift couldn't over hear him. "I know you're not daft, but if he _is_ down there, don't give him any reason to suspect you. Just take some mental notes, and maybe have a chat with old Stamford. He did all the inductions for the Azkaban releases, so he'll know more about his rehabilitation than anyone."

Bill nodded to his father, and led his wife out of the lift. They stood there until the grilles closed again, and waved as the lift sent Mr Weasley soaring backwards.

When they headed through the door ahead of them with a plaque reading _Administrative Registration Department_ , they were greeted by a pretty receptionist with dark red hair. She beamed up at them with her friendly dark eyes, which were magnified by a pair of thick tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles. "Welcome to Administration," she greeted in a clear voice. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Oh, no— - I mean, not an _official_ one," The receptionist raised her thin eyebrows, and glanced down at the large diary in front of her. It looked fairly clear of appointments - clearly, not many people came down to visit the Administration department. The receptionist continued to study Bill silently with her brown eyes, scanning her gaze across the numerous scars on his face.

Fleur leaned onto the desk, giving the young receptionist a sharp, narrow-eyed stare, as if daring her to comment.

"Did you receive an owl?" the receptionist finally responded.

"Yes," Bill returned. "From Mr Stamford Jorkins. We are here to register our marriage, you see."

"One moment please," the receptionist turned around in her chair, reaching for a sheet of lilac paper. She scribbled a quick note on it, and then threw it up into the air. Instantly, it folded itself into a paper plane, and zoomed off down the hallway behind her.

There was the sound of a door banging down the hallway, and suddenly a squat, balding man hurried into the reception. "Welcome!" he called to Bill and Fleur, turning to give a quick nod at the receptionist. "Please, come into my office."

He led them into his office down the hall. Bill glanced around the small, clammy office, with one large desk at one end, and a smaller, emptier desk in the far corner. There was no one sitting there at that moment though, so Stamford took the chair from the desk. He pushed his own large, plush chair around the front of his own desk, and gestured for Fleur to sit in it, while he sat in the wooden chair, leaving Bill to stand.

"May I take your names?" Stamford asked as he was still bustling around. He had pointed his wand wordlessly at a filing cabinet in the corner, and two sheets of parchment flew out and landing on the desk in front of him. A dusty, dark green Quick Quotes Quill followed, landing tiredly in his palm. Stamford laughed nervously when he saw Fleur eyeing the old quill contemptuously. "It's a bit old. Belonged to my mother. Don't really use it much myself. Anyway, names?"

"William Arthur Weasley," Bill told him. "But, I go by Bill."

"Fleur Isabelle Weasley," Fleur added.

"There aren't many questions. I just need your birth year, blood status, and nationalities, if you will."

"I was born in nineteen-seventy," Bill started, as the Quick Quotes Quill began to scribble on the parchment. "I'm Pureblood, but I was bitten by a werewolf during the Second Wizarding War," he paused, as Stamford raised both of his eyebrows, and backed away slightly. "Oh no, I don't transform," he assured him. "I was bitten whilst the werewolf was in human form. I get a few wolfish traits around the full moon, but that's about it."

Stamford tried to force a smile over his queasy expression. "And your nationality, Bill?"

"British."

"And you, Mrs Weasley?"

"I was born in nineteen-seventy-seven, and I am part-Veela."

Stamford raised his eyebrows again, but he didn't look as disgusted as he had when he heard that Bill had werewolf traits. "Part-Veela? Well, that certainly is an interesting—and very unique status to uphold, Mrs Weasley. Do you know how many parts?"

"A quarter. My grandmuzzer was a full Veela."

"Interesting, very interesting..." Stamford was scanning Fleur with a fairly delighted look, and beads of sweat were appearing on his forehead. Bill cocked an eyebrow, apparently suspicious of this man's motives towards his wife. "Anyway," Stamford continued, shaking himself out of the sudden trance. "Your nationality, Mrs Weasley?"

" _Je suis fran_ _ç_ _aise,"_ she replied in French, causing Stamford to elicit a nervous laugh.

"You're a lucky man, Bill, I'll grant you that," Stamford snickered, as the Quick Quotes Quill continued to scribble on the parchment.

Stamford asked them a few more questions, but eventually they were able to give him the date they were married, and then make their exit. They were just leaving the office when the door swung open, and a scruffy looking man in his early thirties entered the office. He looked exhausted, as if arriving at any time before ten in the morning was a human impossibility. After nodding to Stamford in greeting, he pushed ignorantly past Bill, snatching up the chair that Stamford had used and hauling it back over to his own desk.

"Ah, right on time, Crouch. As always," Stamford greeted enthusiastically. He looked over at Bill, apparently noticing the look of shock on his face. "Crouch is my new assistant—one of the rehabilitated Azkaban inmates," he added in a slightly lower tone, as if Barty was unable to hear him.

"Don't patronise me," Barty muttered, shooting a glare over at Stamford.

Bill watched Barty quietly as he made himself comfortable at his desk and began to work on a large stack of papers. Of course he knew that Barty would be here at the Ministry, but no one expected him to be working in what Mr Weasley called "Stamford's dingy little office". Bill wanted desperately to say something to Barty, but he remembered his father's previous warning.

"Well, time to leave, Fleur," murmured Bill. He put an arm around his wife, and the pair left the office

oOo

"We spent the whole day scouring the Ministry, and he was working in _Admin_ for the entire time?" Mr Weasley exclaimed after Bill told the family what they had discovered in the Administrative Registration Department.

"So what do we do next?" Ginny snapped before Bill could reply. "How do we find out where Luna is, so we can get her out during his work hours?"

Percy cleared his throat suddenly, and everyone turned their attention to him. "I have some information that you may be interested in," he announced importantly. "Minister Shacklebolt—"

"— _Minister Shacklebolt?_ " repeated George. Ron stifled a laugh.

"—knows Luna from the Order, and we were chatting about her today," continued Percy, ignoring his younger brothers. "While he reinforced that the Ministry can press no charges against Barty as she wasn't kidnapped, he did betroth me with some very substantial information."

"Well, spit it out then," muttered George.

Percy puffed out his chest dramatically and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small shred of parchment. "Islington, North London," he announced. "That's where Barty Crouch lives."


	15. Exposure

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

oOo

"Twelve-forty-five," Percy murmured to himself, as he checked his watch. "I have five minutes before I have to get back." He glanced up around the large, spacious room that he was now occupying. He had just used the Ministry Floo Network to travel to the house that belonged to Bartemius Crouch Jr, in order to see if Luna Lovegood was there.

Percy was sure this was the right house. The interior was extremely different to what he had imagined, but the judgemental eyes of his old boss, Barty Crouch Senior, were following him from a large portrait above the couch, confirming that this was the Crouch manor.

Suddenly, the beams above creaked, and he presumed that somebody was walking around on the second floor. The unmistakable sound of a girlish humming floated into his ears, and Percy hoped that it belonged to Luna. However, before Percy could make a dash up the stairs to see if his hopes were right, he heard the flames of the Floo Network behind him.

oOo

After a while, Luna began to lose track of time during her incarceration within the Crouch manor. The days eventually melted into weeks, and each day contained the same, monotonous drivel as it had done the day before.

Her routine was simple, yet extremely boring. Monday to Thursday, Luna awoke the moment she heard Barty crashing around downstairs. She would lay in bed until she knew for sure that he was gone, and then get up. The first thing she did was jump into the shower, get herself dressed, and then head back into the bedroom. By that point, Pig would generally have already arrived with any replies from Ginny, so she would spend a quick half an hour replying. After that, she would tidy up her personal space and head downstairs.

By this point, it was almost redundant for Barty to leave her a note, but he still did.

 _Gone to work. Clean and make dinner_. _\- B_

It was the same message every day. The message was well and truly ingrained into her psyche by now, but apparently he still felt the need to reinforce it.

After throwing away the parchment with his scribble on it, she would keep up to her chores, ensuring that everything was spotless. She usually had a hot mess to clear up on a morning—some nights, Luna would hear Barty yelling, screaming, and sometimes even crying in his bedroom. When she took a look in his room, the place would usually be a disaster—ornaments would be broken, his bedding and clothes would be strewn around the floor. One day, she had even found the birdcage on the floor, with the poor owl hopping around in the upturned cage. She would clear up his room to the best of her ability, and it had become an unspoken rule that Luna just left any broken items where they had been previously, and Barty would magically repair them in his own time.

After everywhere was clean and tidy once again, Luna would ensure that Barty's dinner was ready for when he arrived home. She avoided spending time with him as often as she could, not wanting a repeat of their previous drunken evening. Barty's dinner would be on the table for five minutes to four, and she would have already vanished upstairs and out of his way as soon as green flames erupted in the fireplace.

Thankfully, it appeared to Luna that Barty didn't really care about her efforts to avoid him. Since their drunken antics, he had made virtually no effort to converse with her, and Luna was just fine with that. Even though he had exposed a more personal, vulnerable side to his persona that evening, the shifts in his personality were just a little too hard for Luna to fully understand. She preferred to listen to his raging episodes from afar, and not get herself further involved with them.

In fact, she was making the most of the peace that Barty was giving her. It meant that she had more time with her own thoughts; to think about what Ginny and the rest of her friends were planning, and if it was going to put them in any danger. That was what worried her the most—but whenever she tried to convince Ginny not to go through with this plan, her concerns were brushed off.

Most nights she woke up from terrible nightmares, which consisted of Barty doing something terrible to one of her friends. She desperately didn't want anything to happen to them, and now that she knew just how unstable Barty could be, that fear was amplified.

However, even though Luna and Barty were having very little social communication, there was some interaction going on, and it was an uncomfortable secret that Luna wanted to push as far from her mind as she could.

His episodes during the night were usually extremely loud and intense. There would be an audible flurry of rage, a series of crashes and bangs, and the unmistakable sound of something shattering. Luna would lay in the dark, listening to him stomp around the house. After a while, his footsteps would head up another flight of stairs, growing closer to where she slept.

If Luna was facing he doorway, she would peer through cracks in her eyelids as she watched him creep into her room. He always closed the door quietly, and the moonlight would stream in through the window, illuminating his milky complexion as he stood in the doorway shirtless, his hair hanging over his forehead. He would climb carefully into the bed and curl himself around her, winding his arms around her body and pulling her into him.

Barty seemed to breath her in, burying his face into her neck and caressing her waist and stomach with his calloused hands. Even though the idea of this made Luna feel awfully uncomfortable when she thought about it the next day, she couldn't deny that since Barty had begun secretly sleeping beside her, she had never slept better.

Their arrangement never went any further, and neither of them ever made any mention of it through the day.

By morning, Barty would be gone, leaving nothing but a dent in the pillow beside her, and the scent of his minty soap in the air. Joining in her bed seemed to make his mood swings a little less intense, but Luna didn't know for definite, having rapidly reduced her time spent with him.

Fridays weren't as routine as the rest of the week was. Barty had started having a regular appointment with John Dawlish on a Friday at lunchtime, which generally lasted from thirty minutes to an hour. As his boss left work at two in the afternoon, he had allowed Barty to go home whenever his appointment finished. So, to Luna's disdain, Barty's arrival was very unanticipated on a Friday—something that she struggled to abide, as she liked to make sure she was nowhere near him when he came in from work. She didn't know what he was going to be like, or which Barty he was going to be. If he was the wrong way out, she wanted to be as far away from his wrath as possible.

This particular Friday, Luna knew that Barty was definitely going to be the wrong way out. She knew from the moment that she spotted him walking down the garden path.

Firstly, he _never_ came in from outside. He used the Floo Network religiously, and very rarely ever stepped outside the front door. Secondly, he was dripping wet. His hair and clothes were drenched, despite the fact that the sun was gleaming, and there was absolutely no hint of rain in the air. His face was thunderous.

Thirdly, Luna's insides were forced to churn uncomfortably as he entered the house and mutinously called her name up the stairs.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever was going to come, and headed downstairs. Once she got to the ground floor, she found her captor in the kitchen, aiming his wand at his robes, as a stream of hot air poured from the tip and dried his clothes. Luna waited patiently, and as soon as his clothes were substantially dry, he stuck his wand back into his pocket, and pulled open the top few buttons of his shirt. He sat down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs, and threw Luna a dirty look.

"I couldn't use the Floo Network today," he stated, his eyes boring into Luna.

Her brow furrowed. "You couldn't?" she blinked, a little unsure what this had to do with her.

"No," he pulled out the chair beside him before continuing, but Luna remained standing in the middle of the kitchen. "This morning whilst I was in the office, a red-headed gentleman approached me, telling me that I would be unable to go home via the Floo Network today. He said there was a problem with several people's networks, and they were working on resolving the issue immediately.

"Naturally, I didn't want to travel home by any other means—I'm not prepared for that. Sit down," he suddenly barked, causing Luna to flinch involuntarily at the sudden shift in his voice. "I'd like you to listen to my story, Luna," he added, in a softer tone.

Luna crossed the kitchen obediently, and took a seat in the chair beside him. He cleared his throat, and continued his story.

"Dawlish wasn't at work today, so at lunchtime, I decided to take a little trip up to the Department of Magical Transportation, to find out just _what_ was wrong with my network." At this point, Barty stood up from his seat, and stretched out his arms. He began to wander backwards and forwards behind Luna, as if he were circling his prey. "However, it turned out that the Head of that office was out on his lunch break." Barty's hands suddenly dropped onto Luna's shoulders, once again making her flinch. His fingers began to knead the skin on her shoulders and neck gently, but Luna felt anything but relaxed. "The Head of the Department turns out to be a man called _Percy Weasley_."

Luna's heart sank.

"So, I entered the office without knocking," Barty continued, as if this act of violation was completely acceptable. He carried on massaging Luna's neck, but he leaned forwards so that his face was near her ear. "My, you are tense, Luna." Luna could hear the smirk in his voice as he straightened back up. "I thought I would just have a little look at his employee files, to see if there were any notes in my own file as to why my Floo Network wouldn't be working. Only, it turned out I didn't need to go searching through his cabinets and cupboards. Do you want to know why?"

When Luna didn't answer, Barty dug his fingers a little harder into her flesh. "Why?" she whispered quietly, but she already had an idea of the answer.

"My employee file was already on Mr Weasley's desk. Only, it wasn't just a file of details that the Head of Magical Transportation would have, but much more personal details. Why would the Head of Magical Transportation of _all_ people have this detailed file, that should really only be kept in the Administration Department, where I work?

"Curiosity naturally got the better of me. I had a look though this file, and it became immediately obvious that Mr Weasley has been compiling notes about me. About my life, my family, my school years. Another thing suddenly struck me—why would the _Head_ of the Department come and personally tell me that there was a problem with the Floo Networks of quite a lot of employees? Surely he wouldn't have time to rush around the Ministry to tell everybody this personally. He'd send an assistant, or a memo. I thought that was very unusual—don't you agree?"

Luna remained silent.

"I asked you a question!" he suddenly hissed, his hands gripping her neck unexpectedly.

"Yes!" she coughed, feeling worry pooling in her stomach. _What had he done?_

His hands relaxed once again, and continued to gently rub her neck. "Good," he murmured. "Of course, I stole the file," Barty removed one hand from her shoulder to dig around in the inside of his robes. A second later, he had retrieved a thick, brown-sheaved folder, which he threw onto the table. "As you can see, Mr Weasley had circled my address. But _why_? Did this really have anything to do with the Floo Network? As Mr Weasley wasn't around for me to question about this, I decided to just jump in his fireplace myself, and see if he was lying about there being an issue with the network."

"What happened?" Luna replied hoarsely.

"As expected, there was nothing wrong with the Floo Network. I travelled here normally. Only, there was something wrong. There was an intruder in the house."

"No there wasn't—" Luna began. She had been in the house all day, she would've known if someone was sneaking around.

"—Don't interrupt me!" he spat. "When I climbed out of the fireplace, Mr Weasley was standing right over there!" Barty threw a finger towards the living room, gesturing to where the window was. "Having a good look around the living room, making little notes."

Luna's eyes widened. Percy had been in the living room for a brief moment during lunchtime, and she hadn't even known.

"So I grabbed him." Luna bit her lip at this comment, and she inwardly prayed that Barty hadn't harmed Percy. "Only he apparated at that moment, accidentally taking me with him. We appeared in the middle of the moors near Manchester. I was disorientated from the unexpected apparition, and Mr Weasley managed to catch me with some kind of ridiculous water balloon hex, and before I could retaliate he had disapparated.

"Leaving me in the middle of the moors with absolutely no fireplace in sight to return home. So, I had to apparate to the end of this street and walk home," Barty concluded, but his face was still stony. "I was just walking along, wondering what on earth I'm to do with this Mr Weasley, when I saw something. Do you know what I saw, Luna?"

Luna's face suddenly turned sheet-white. She knew perfectly well what he'd seen.

Ginny had been late returning her mail this morning, and it hadn't arrived until well after half twelve. Her lip shook as his large hands clawed around her throat viciously.

" _Answer me!"_ he snarled, throttling her roughly. She grabbed his hands, trying to loosen his grip on her, but he was too strong. He pulled her from the seat by her neck, and threw her to the other side of the kitchen, where she collided with one of the counter tops. Swallowing heavily, she flattened herself against the counter, gripping it with her sweating palms.

Within seconds he had stormed towards her, and his hands grabbed the counter, trapping her in front of him. The familiar manic look was on his face—his snarling lip curled; his dark eyes glittered menacingly; and his tongue twitched against the corner of his mouth erratically.

"I saw an owl!" he yelled, spraying her face with spit. "Flying away from my house!" he removed one hand from the counter, grabbing her neck again, almost lifting her from her feet. Her hands clutched desperately at the one that he had around her neck. "An owl flying away from my house—from _your_ window!" his fingers clamped down on her windpipe, making it almost impossible to breathe. "Who have you been communicating with?"

Luna slapped pathetically at the hand that was around her neck. "Barty," she choked. "Please..." she stared at him with her glassy, tear-filled eyes, silently begging him to release her.

He stared down at her silently for a few moments, his teeth grit. As her face began to glow scarlet, he dropped her suddenly. Taking a deep, desperate breath, Luna grasped the counter with one hand, and rubbed her neck with the other. When she had composed herself, she turned her attention back up to Barty, her lip quivering.

"Who have you been writing to?" he hissed.

Luna's mind churned desperately, trying to come up with a lie, an excuse, anything at all to try and bring down Barty's temper. But there was nothing she could do—Barty had seen the owl. Luna hadn't been able to bring herself to throw away her letters from Ginny, so if she lied, he would undoubtedly head straight upstairs to search through her belongings. Even though Ginny never went into detail about what they were planning at the Burrow, she still dropped hints every now and then. It wouldn't take Barty long to work out what they were up to.

"Answer me!"

"Ginny!" Luna shouted suddenly. "My friend—Ginny."

Barty leaned forward until his nose was inches away from hers. "What have you been talking about?" His narrow, dark eyes bored into Luna's. She swallowed, and forced herself to maintain eye contact with him.

"We've just been keeping in touch."

 _"Liar!"_

"We've just been talking, I swear!"

"Tell me the truth!"

"Okay!" screeched Luna finally. Barty had been yelling right in her face, causing her ears to ring.

She couldn't take it anymore.

While ever they were living in the same proximity like this, Barty was always going to act this way. There was no point in trying to keep things from him.

"They want to get me out of here," she whimpered. Just saying the words felt like Luna was unbuckling a huge, tight belt of relief from around her chest. "I...I don't think I can live here anymore.

"That's probably why Percy was here," Luna continued in a quiet voice. "He will have wanted to make sure it was the right house."

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Barty and Luna stared at each other in silence, listening to nothing but the sound of each other breathing. Before long, Barty began to wilt. His jaw slackened, and the frown embedded in his forehead softened. His arms swung limply by his side, and his gaze dropped to the floor, no longer making eye contact with Luna. He looked crestfallen.

"You...you're trying to run away?" he murmured, his voice hollow. Luna felt her stomach turn. It was the same voice he had spoken to her in during that first night that he had fallen into bed with her. The voice that made him seem so exposed and vulnerable and...

Broken.

This was what Luna had been talking about. This was the kind of thing that she couldn't deal with. The drastic switches in his personality; one hot-blooded extreme to another cold, icy one. In that moment, Luna wished that he was still angry with her. She could _react_ to angry. She wished she could remain cool and impassive when he bared this sensitive side to his personality, but she just couldn't.

She was too gentle.

He turned around slowly, and walked at a snails pace to the other side of the kitchen.

"Barty," Luna called across the kitchen, her voice quivering. She had no idea how to speak to him, or what to say, but she knew she had to try something. "Barty, please—argh!"

A ceramic plate had suddenly flown towards Luna's head. Only by a millisecond did she manage to swerve out of the way, allowing the plate to shatter against the cupboard behind her. Barty was stood over by the cupboard where all of the dinnerware was kept, reaching for another plate. He stared at her wildly, his brown eyes wide and demented, and his hand shook as he took aim.

The plate left his fingers at break-neck speed and Luna thanked Merlin that she had such quick reflexes, just as the second plate smashed into the area where her head had just been. "Please!" she called desperately, as a china mug collided with the counter top. "Just calm down!" a soup dish ricocheted off the the wall, leaving a dent in the neat paint.

This continued for what seemed like hours. Luna was forced to duck and dodge numerous bombs of dinnerware, until she found a safe place. She wedged herself into the gap between the counter and the refrigerator, clamping her hands down over her ears.

Barty was shrieking as he continued his assault on the kitchen. Tears sprang into her eyes—Luna felt as though she was in the middle of a war zone.

She waited, desperately hoping that each plate and dish he threw would be the last one. As she sat there, her heart thudding profusely, she couldn't help but think back to the last war she had been in the middle of.

Strangely enough, she felt much more afraid right now, than she ever had during the Battle of Hogwarts.


	16. The Calm After the Storm

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

After an hour, Barty had finally run out of dinnerware to shatter, and he had collapsed, breathless, on the kitchen floor. His vision was unfocused and blurry, but in front of him he could see various shards of porcelain, reminding him of the mess he'd made of the kitchen. What the hell was wrong with him?

He reached out, feeling emotion prickling in the back of his throat, and started trying to scoop up the jagged chunks of china and porcelain. The sharp edges sliced into the palms of his hand, sending a cascade of blood over the floor and pieces of dinnerware, but he barely noticed the sharp pain.

"Barty," a hoarse whisper sounded from somewhere right of him. His head jerked to the direction of the voice, and he spotted Luna crouched in the gap beside the refrigerator, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her mouth was open slightly, and her large, silvery eyes were wide and unblinking. She looked scared, worried, and concerned. As she made direct eye contact with him, she shivered and swallowed loudly.

Barty held out a hand towards her and opened his mouth to speak, but found that no words would come to his lips. Thankfully, she seemed to read his unspoken plea, and slowly she climbed out from her safe area and walked over to him. Once she was beside him, he reached out with his bloody hand and grasped the front of her shirt, using her as leverage to climb to his feet. She clutched at his upper arms to help him, and once he was steady on his feet, she slowly turned his palms over to face her, and studied the deep wounds he'd inflicted on his skin.

Barty stared down at Luna. How was it that this girl wasn't running away from him, after everything that he'd put her through? How was it that she was still standing here, looking down at his injuries, instead of locking herself in a room until he had calmed down? How could someone be so compassionate?

"I'm sorry," he murmured suddenly, causing Luna to flicker her gaze to his face. "I don't know why..."

"I'm going to need my wand," she replied softly, turning her attention back to his hands.

"Wh...what?"

"To fix your wounds."

Barty swallowed slowly. There was a good chance that, if he gave her the wand, she would make a rash attempt to escape. Not having her wand was the only thing that truly tethered Luna to him, as she had no magical means of getting out without it.

If she left, he would be alone. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted her to stay here.

Barty realised in that moment, that he had been acting exactly like the person he never wanted to turn into.

He had been acting like his father.

Bartemius Crouch Senior had kept Barty's wand well out of reach, and trapped him under an invisibility cloak with little to no social interaction. That was just one environmental factor that had most likely led Barty to become the person he was today.

Barty had done the same thing to Luna. He'd taken her wand, locked her in a house, and banned her from communicating with absolutely anyone. He was selfish and alone, and he had wanted to inflict that same pain on another person. He wanted someone else to feel how he had felt during the imprisonment in his own home.

As his breath hitched in his throat, Barty continued to blink down at Luna, feeling his eyes prickling with tears. She had grabbed a tea towel from somewhere, and was gently dabbing at the wounds on his palms, soaking up the excess blood.

Barty knew what he had to do.

"It's upstairs," he mumbled gruffly. His voice sounded strange in his ears - like a strangled animal. "There is a leather box under my bed. It's hidden with a disillusionment charm, but if you feel around you'll get it." The box was the same box that Stamford Jorkins had given him so long ago—the box that contained the deed to the house, and the letter from his father describing the Unbreakable Vow. It had seemed to be the only appropriate place to hide Luna's wand.

Luna scrunched the tea towel up and placed it both of his hands, and then carefully pressed his fingers over the material. "Keep hold of that," she instructed calmly. "I'll be back in a moment."

Barty pressed his lips together as Luna hurried out of the kitchen. Any minute now, he would hear the front door opening. Any minute now, there would be the unmistakable _pop!_ as she apparated from the front garden. She would be gone in a flash; gone forever.

So why in the hell was he standing here clutching this damned tea towel? He couldn't spend his life living alone, so he might as well go upstairs and end it. After throwing the tea towel down on the floor, he spun around on his heel, ready to charge out of the kitchen and lock himself in his bedroom.

His pathway was blocked, however, as he discovered Luna stood in the kitchen door, holding her wand and looking up him blankly.

"You haven't gone," Barty stated emptily, his eyes focused on the wand in her hand. "Why haven't you gone?"

"I said I was going to heal you," Luna replied slowly.

"Yes...but..."

Luna stepped towards him, and took hold of his hands up again. The blood was still flowing slowly from the open wounds, and she cast her wand upon each hand, muttering an incantation under her breath. A stream of light poured from the tip of her wand, and Barty watched as the magic fused his wounds back together, leaving nothing but a thin, pink scar upon each palm. When she was finished, she carefully placed her wand in his hand, and looked up at him, her face impassive.

"Not everybody is a liar, Barty."

What on earth was wrong with this girl?

Barty fell towards her suddenly, dropping the wand, which clattered across the kitchen floor, vanishing under the table. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she stood stock still as he did so, allowing him to embrace her. Barty wondered why she didn't push away from him—did she mind? Was she worried about what he would do to her if she struggled away from him? Or was it that she was so used to these embraces, as they usually happened during the dead of the night?

Slowly, her stiff form melted into him, as Barty pulled her head into his chest and buried his nose in the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. As she softened against him, Barty dropped his hands to her waist, and his face bent into the crook of her neck. Her head turned to allow his face to fit neatly into that space, and he breathed heavily into her skin.

His mind felt pleasantly blank as he held onto the girl in front of him. The hurricane that had been waging war on his brain just an hour ago felt calm; this was the pleasant aftermath of the storm. It was as though Luna was his own personal Calming Drought, the vibes that she gave off just seemed to seep under his skin and into his conciousness.

He was mildly aware of his hands smoothing across the small of Luna's back, and the way his fingers crept under the hem of her shirt. He felt something stirring in the pit of his stomach as she let out an involuntary gasp at the sensation of his skin making contact with hers, and her breath tickled his ear. Her spine curved into his soft touch, and he carefully allowed his lips to brush against the delicate skin of her neck.

A low, unusual sound came from Luna's throat, something in between a gasp and a moan. When she didn't say anything, Barty assumed that she wasn't going to react negatively to his touch. He allowed his lips to part against her skin, and began to leave gentle, wet kisses up and down the expanse of her neck. The feelings that he was experiencing were indescribable—it was as though his insides were melting and sinking to a point that was deep in his lower belly. He dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips, never wanting to let go of her, never wanting to lose this wonderful sensation. His mind was so beautifully numb—he was drunk on her empowering fumes.

A loud moan escaped her throat as he kissed her particularly hard behind the shell of her ear, and her eyelashes fluttered against his neck. Suddenly, her hands were flat against his chest, and she was pushing him back with all of the strength she could muster. Her face was flushed crimson when she looked up at him, her eyes wide and brimming with confusion.

"Wh...what are you doing?" she murmured. A hand travelled up to the space on her neck where his mouth had just been, where a litter of red marks decorated her skin. Barty couldn't help but feel a sense of glee at having left his own personal signature on her.

He remained silent, trying to keep his face impassive. "Are you afraid?"

Luna pressed her lips together and swallowed, trying to keep her gaze on him. She couldn't, however, as she cast her eyes to the floor, where they lingered on her feet.

"You are, aren't you?"

Luna remained silent.

Barty pulled her hands away from his chest, and stepped forwards, filling the space that she had created when she had pushed him away. His hands travelled up to her face, gently cupping her jaw and cheek, and tilting her face to look up at him. He was so close to her mesmerising, silvery gaze right now, if he leant forward just a little closer, he would be diving straight into a calm, silver ocean.

He was moving closer to her, but Luna's hand suddenly shot up and pressed against his lips, preventing him from closing in the space between their faces. "I'm not afraid, Barty," she insisted, but her eyes were darting around when she spoke. "But...but...you know you..."

"What?"

"You know you can't keep me locked up here forever," she finished, biting her lips once the sentence left her lips.

Barty allowed his thumb to rub a small circle on her jaw, while she chewed the skin of her lip agitatedly. She didn't realise that what she was doing was so...intriguing.

"You can't leave," he murmured, winding his hand around the back of her head and pulling her face closer until their foreheads collided. Her irises flickered down to his lips, and Barty felt her breath on his mouth. "You know you can't leave. Just accept it," he finished, and in the next moment, his mouth had collided with hers.

Her mouth was hot, and the kiss he laid on her was intense. His hands were clamped down on her face and hair, not allowing her to break away from him. Strangely enough, it didn't seem as though she wanted to. For a few moments, her eyes remained open and alarmed, her hands swinging awkwardly by her sides, but slowly, her eyelids fluttered closed.

Barty released Luna's face, letting his hands fall to her waist once again, enjoying the feel of her small frame beneath his hands. Finally, Luna seemed to be kissing him back, but slowly; tentatively. Her arms circled around his neck, her fingers trembling against the name of his neck.

Barty had never felt so wonderful in his life. The feeling of numbness was back in his brain. He could hear the sounds of plates shattering in his head—the hurricane seemed to be present, but it wasn't as angry and destructive. It was passionate, ploughing it's way through his mind to get to the source of these new feelings and sensations that he was experiencing. He was confused, conflicted, a whirlwind of emotions. No sense could be made of them in that moment, but he didn't care.

In that moment, nothing mattered but Luna.

Her fingers combed through his hair, and his slithered up the back of her shirt once again. They finally pulled apart for air, gasping for breath. Barty pressed his forehead to hers again. "You can't leave," he repeated, panting slightly. "You belong here. You're mine."


	17. Unstable and Unfixable

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

Arthur, Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Harry were sat in the kitchen at the Weasley household. "Today is the day," Arthur told the others quietly. It was early, and the only other person awake was Molly, and she was quietly monitoring the washing up over at the sink, but keeping an ear on the conversation.

"Let's do this," Ginny muttered, and the five of them stood up from their seats.

oOo

A week had passed since Barty and Luna had kissed in the kitchen.

Even though the connection had obviously brought them closer, it had done nothing but fill the huge house with awkwardness. After Barty had made his final remark that day, Luna had dashed upstairs to her bedroom, leaving Barty to magically clean up the mess that he had created with the dinnerware.

They were both flustered and embarrassed by what had happened between them. Almost immediately they went back to their previous routine of avoiding each other completely, and every day went on in it's usual, monotonous way. Barty took measures to ensure that all of the windows in the house were magically sealed, so that Luna's friends couldn't deliver her any messages—he had hoped that this would spark some kind of reaction in her, but she remained glassy-eyed and serene as he walked through the house, silently casting sealing charms on all of the windows.

Even though they were back to distancing themselves from each other, Barty couldn't help but notice something different about her. Whereas it had been previously easy to determine her emotions, despite her attempts to appear impassive, Barty could generally detect whether she was feeling sad, angry or upset. However, it seemed that after the kiss they shared, she didn't need to try anymore.

Barty continued to sneak into her room during the night. She would usually be staring up at him as he entered, remaining silent. When he slipped into her bed and curled his body round hers, she would lay still and motionless, like a gangly-limbed marionette. The only way that Barty knew she was actually alive, was by the slow, rhythmic rising and falling of her chest.

Ever since his dramatic episode in the kitchen with Luna, Barty had spent most days considering telling John Dawlish about these problems he was having. John Dawlish doubled up as both his WatchWizard and his Ministry Support Worker, and was the man who Barty had his regular meetings with on a Friday.

It was opening up to Dawlish which led Barty to be sitting in a dingy Healing Clinic in the middle of a valley in South Yorkshire, just an hour after his weekly appointment with Dawlish. As Barty sat in the waiting room of the Healing Clinic on a plastic orange chair, he was clenching and unclenching his fists repetitively, and beginning to regret the decision he'd made in telling Dawlish everything.

He hadn't just opened up a _little_. Barty had confessed _everything_ to Dawlish, in between breaking down into fits of tears and bursts of self-loathing. He told Dawlish everything about Luna and how he'd treated her. He explained his extreme mood swings, the flashbacks and nightmares that he experienced in the night, and his tendency to smash anything breakable within sight during these episodes. _Everything_.

It was as though his mouth was out of control; babbling every last thought and feeling that came to his mind. Dawlish had tried to joke with Barty on previous occasions about how difficult it was talking to the other ex-Azkaban inmates—the Carrow siblings would be practically unresponsive, and the Lestranges were on such bad terms nowadays that any meeting with them was like couples therapy. Barty wondered that if Dawlish had hoped that he would act as impassive and unresponsive as he usually did, instead of greeting him with the emotional outburst that had taken up the full meeting.

Dawlish was green by the time they hit the two hour mark. Barty had been fully describing a particularly haunting memory that he had of his father making him sit in the cupboard under the sink when he was a child, when Dawlish finally held up a hand, using the fingers on the other to rub the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not a psychologist," he had stated sharply.

When Barty had finally stopped his motor mouth, Dawlish went on to tell Barty that he was going to refer him for an immediate appointment with a very qualified and well-known Mind Healer who worked out of the county. Barty had immediately denied, but Dawlish tactfully explained that if the Ministry grew aware of his mental instability, they would more than likely see him as unfit to live in a public society.

The Wizarding World just weren't yet equipped to deal with mental health problems just yet. Anything that couldn't be fixed by magic was usually just dealt with numerous potions, allowing the patient to live a sedated, motionless life.

Barty didn't want to be like that at all, but he also didn't want to go to Azkaban. So he had agreed to visit the Mind Healer that Dawlish referred him to, and took the Floo Network there within the hour.

He gripped the rungs of the uncomfortable seat with his palms. He really was regretting coming here at all. The other witches and wizards that were sitting in the waiting room around him looked as though they should be in St. Mungos—one very old woman was sitting in a blue nightshirt, and every time the receptionist lifted her head up from the desk, she called out: "Andrea!". Every time the receptionist calmly told her that she wasn't who she thought she was, the old woman would nod, but call her again shortly after.

Another young boy of about fifteen or sixteen was walking up and down the expanse of the waiting room repeatedly, his eyes glued to the floor. He loudly counted each tile as he walked along, and then started again once he reached the other side of the room. It was making Barty dizzy, and driving him crazy.

He was just contemplating jumping out of his seat and charging out of the door, when a high pitched voice distracted him. "Mr Crouch?"

Barty looked up at the woman who had spoken his name. She was a tall, thin woman, with grey hair pulled back into a tight bun, and she was wearing very red lipstick on her puckered lips. She had large, square-rimmed glasses on her face, and a little white hat perched on the top of her head, which matched the pristine white coat she was wearing. "Mr Crouch?" she repeated, looking directly at him, and Barty noticed that she had her red lipstick smeared on her front teeth.

"Yes, that's me," he muttered, and swiftly jumped up from his seat. She scribbled something out on her clipboard—Barty noticed idly that she was using a Muggle pen instead of a quill—and motioned for her to follow him.

She led him through some double doors behind the reception desk, and down a long, gleaming corridor. It was in that moment that Barty realised how much he disliked hospitals. Everything was too white, too clean, the lights were much too bright, and there was the constant smell of antiseptic, which he strongly associated with illness, lingering in the air. Barty had only visited a hospital once before in his life, and that was during his Christmas holidays at Hogwarts, when he'd been to see his ill mother.

The grey haired woman took a sharp left into another corridor, and then led him into a room that was labelled 'Babar'.

Upon first glances, the room looked like any typical medical office. There was a stretcher bed beneath the window, with a paper white sheet spread out over it. In the nearest corner of the room, a neat desk was situated, which held numerous paper items, and one of those large electrical Muggle items known as a 'computer'. Two of the orange plastic chairs were placed in front of the desk, and the remaining space in the office was filled with various cabinets, cupboards and wall charts.

There was a tan-skinned doctor sitting at the desk, and upon Barty's arrival, he stood up and shook his hand. He had a thick, dark beard, and spoke with an eastern accent. "Good morning, Mr Crouch," he greeted politely. Barty could see his teeth flash beneath his beard as he smiled warmly. "My name is Doctor Babar. Please take a seat, and we'll go through introductions and any questions you may have."

Barty sat down hesitantly on one of the seats, and placed his hands in his lap. The grey-haired woman left the room promptly, closing the door behind her.

Once Doctor Babar had sat back down, he spoke again. "I received your records from a Mr John Dawlish at the Ministry of Magic," Doctor Babar began. "I've done some light reading into your convictions, and Mr Dawlish gave me a brief overview of the problems you described to him when you went into your check up today. We're just going to give you a little check over, so there won't be any hard work involved—not for you, anyway!" Doctor Babar let out a low chuckle at his little joke, but Barty remained silent. "Before we start, do you have any questions?"

"Why do you call yourself 'Doctor'?" Barty asked immediately. It had been the first question on his mind from the moment he saw the label on the door. All witches and wizards who worked in medicine went by 'Healer'—Doctors were the people who Muggles went to see.

"Ah, that's always the first question my patients have." Doctor Babar gestured up to a certificate that was hanging in a black frame on the wall, alongside a picture of a much younger Doctor Babar, wearing some kind of strange, flat hat, and holding two rolls of paper with a thick ribbon wrapped around them. "I'll explain from the start, and answer any of your future questions.

"My mother was a Schizophrenic. She spent five years in turmoil with her hallucinations. My father and I spent a great deal of time trying to get her appropriate help within St. Mungos, but as you may know, the Wizarding World don't really take Psychology seriously—not just yet, anyway.

"Several Muggles in our village became aware that there was something not quite right with my mother, and we spent several weeks as the subject of their childish torment. But my mother couldn't turn a blind eye to them. One day, her magic got out of control, and she killed three of the Muggles.

"In the Wizengamot, I tried to insist that my mother needed medical and psychological help, not confinement. But they wouldn't have it—the majority of the Wizengamot voted for incarceration."

"What happened to her?" Barty asked quietly.

"She went to Azkaban, and died six months later."

Barty was silent as he processed what Doctor Babar had just confessed. The Ministry had neglected this woman for so long, and when she finally broke down and there were consequences, she was imprisoned. Swept under the rug and out of the way, just how the Ministry liked to deal with things.

"After she died, I decided that I wanted to make it a personal ambition to ensure that any witches and wizards with psychological problems had the opportunity to live long and fulfilling lives, whilst managing to control their internal issues through the means of medication or therapy. However, there was no way of learning Psychology in the Wizarding World, so I was forced to take a place in the Muggle society, and go through college and University, and take a Muggle course.

"I received a degree in Psychology three years later, and then spent a further three years practising my newly learned skills and therapies on Muggle patients, hence why I earned the title of Doctor. When I decided to branch back into the Wizarding World, and I opened this establishment, the title just stuck.

"My time in the Muggle community forced me to adapt to many of their ways," Doctor Babar continued with a chuckle, and gestured to the computer in front of him. "Have you ever seen one of these before? Marvellous invention."

Barty continued to remain silent as Doctor Babar coughed, and shuffled a few sheets of paper on the desk in front of him. "Anyway, now that all of that is out of the way," he continued. "We can move on to you."

"Is there something wrong with me?" murmured Barty. He didn't want to drag this out any longer than he had to.

"Barty, judging from what I have read from your notes, I think you may have a personality disorder. An emotional instability, of sorts. Of course, this is not an official diagnosis—we will need to have several more sessions before that, but it's just an idea, so that we can think of some ways to help you."

"What happens if you can't help me?"

Doctor Babar sighed, and licked his lips tentatively. "If you weren't having any assistance, then it's likely that your emotional irregularity would get worse over time, and if anything was to happen to jeopardise your position here in society, you would probably be forced to face the Wizengamot," Doctor Babar took a breath, and twiddled with a pen that was on the desk. "In which case, you will probably have to go back to Azkaban."

Barty clenched his teeth tightly, and his eyes widened. "I really can't go back there," he gasped, suddenly feeling breathless. He was reminded extremely visually of the empty coldness that he was forced to constantly endure.

Doctor Babar reached out and placed his hand comfortingly on Barty's arm, but Barty pulled away hurriedly, shooting a glare in Doctor Babar's direction. The Doctor didn't comment however, choosing instead to act as though the unwanted contact hadn't just happened. "Please try not to panic, Barty. We can help you—we can't _cure_ you, but we can help you. Your condition is...well, put simply, it's unfixable. But we can manage it."

"What do you mean? What's wrong with me?" Barty could feel anger bubbling in his stomach.

"Barty, your personality disorder is totally managable, there's no need to panic—"

"—I don't have a _personality disorder_ ," Barty hissed venomously, and he jumped out of his seat, glaring down at Doctor Babar. "I've been in Azkaban for the last four years. Before that I was kept inside for years and under the Imperius curse! So of course I'm going to be a little bit...a bit..."

"Unstable," finished Doctor Babar quietly. Barty stood stock still for a few moments, with his jaw rigid, but after apparently not knowing what to say, he slowly returned to his seat. "It's completely manageable, with a healthy daily dose of Calming Draught and a session of intensive therapy a week."

" _Intensive therapy,"_ repeated Barty. _"Intensive therapy!"_ his voice rose and shook threateningly, and then he suddenly jumped out of his seat. "I can't do this. There's nothing wrong with me!" he yelled, spraying Doctor Babar with spit. He couldn't contain his anger anymore, and felt a sudden urge to curse the doctor right there in his office.

Instead, he gritted his teeth firmly, and made a lunge for the door. Barty charged down the hallway and back into the reception, ignoring Doctor Babar's frantic shouts for him to come back. The red-lipped woman from earlier on was in the reception, and she quickly stood in front of the door, brandishing her wand. Before she could attempt a spell, Barty shoved her into the wall as he pushed past her, and pulled the door open quickly.

The first thing he was aware of was the dazzling sunlight, which blinded him. He squinted, but before his eyes could adjust to the brightness, a flash of electric blue overwhelmed him.

" _Stupefy!"_ yelled a female voice. Barty's world became immediately dark, as he plummeted to the ground.

oOo

" _Rennervate."_

The voice that spoke seemed so far away, but it was so clear. Barty cracked his eyes open slowly, and a dim orange light flooded into his vision.

He became immediately aware that he was in his own bed. The curtains were drawn, which explained the orange light, coming from the setting sun outside, and his ears were filled with the low hooting of his owl. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

Suddenly, he was aware of five other people sharing his bedroom. A middle aged balding man, a lankier boy with the same red hair, a girl with a pair of judgemental brown eyes, a girl sporting her particularly bushy hair in a ponytail, and _him_. Harry Potter. After a second glance, Barty remembered the names Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, when

Barty made a sudden movement to grab his wand, but he realised it was no longer in his pocket, nor was it on the bedside table. Looking again at the oldest man in the room, Barty realised he was holding two wands - one of which appeared to be his.

"Give me my wand and get out of my house," Barty murmured dangerously through his gritted teeth.

"Luna is with us," the older man spoke in a slightly strangled voice. The younger people didn't appear fazed by Barty, but this man looked slightly uncomfortable at addressing him. "I will drop your wand the moment before we disapparate."

"How did you do this?" snarled Barty. "Just tell me."

"Oh, we've had a plan ready for weeks," the younger, red-headed girl replied this time. She had her arms folded across her chest, and was casting narrow eyes on Barty. He wondered vaguely if this was the friend that Luna had been communicating with. "My brother and father went searching for you today at the Ministry, as we planned to lure you outside of the Ministry and then stun you, before returning here and rescuing Luna. However, when we tracked you down to John Dawlish, you'd already gone. He let us know you had an appointment at a Healing Clinic, so we followed you there and waited for you to emerge out of the front doors."

"It all went perfectly to plan—surprisingly," Harry Potter muttered, and Barty resisted the urge to bare his teeth at the Chosen One.

"You're lucky we had the generosity to bring you back with us," the red-headed girl added snidely.

After her comment, the five of them stood there quietly for a few moments, staring down at him.

"Why did you do it?" Harry Potter spoke suddenly, and Barty felt hatred stirring in his stomach. "Why did you take Luna? You didn't have to do anything about that stupid Vow."

Barty felt his mouth melting into a smirk. "Because I could," he sneered, glaring at Potter. The bespectacled boy pursed his lips, and looked as though he wanted to fire another stunning spell at Barty, but he just clenched his fists instead, remaining silent.

They all began to spread apart and prepare themselves to disapparate, but Barty decided to leave them with one last parting comment.

"She will come back," he muttered, leaning back on the headboard.

"I beg your pardon?" the red haired girl replied, aiming her want at Barty's throat.

"Luna," Barty continued lazily, stretching his arms out above his head. "She'll come back. What, did you think I was locking her in her bedroom every night? Starving her; shoving scraps of toast under her door?" Barty threw back his head and let out a loud laugh. "If only you knew."

Ginny clenched her jaw and stepped towards Barty, thrusting her wand under his chin. He continued to stare up at her, and he leaned forwards slowly, so that the tip of her wand pushed into his skin. "She doesn't hate me, little girl. There's something between us. She has feelings for me, whether she admits to them or not...and they're very deeply ingrained," he purred, reaching out carefully to flick her wand away.

"Shut up!" she screeched suddenly, and abandoned her wand, lunging onto the bed and clawing at his face. Harry and Ron grabbed at her, pulling her away from Barty, but she had managed to scratch her nails deeply across his face, leaving three angry welts on his cheek. He seemed unaware however, as he continued to smirk at the scene playing out in front of him.

"Just ignore him Ginny, he's just trying to get to you," Hermione whispered. Ginny one last glare over at Barty, and the five of them resumed their previous positions.

One by one they began to disapparate out of the bedroom, until only the oldest man was left.

Barty realised at that point that he did recognise this man. "What's your name?" he asked curiously.

"Arthur Weasley," the man replied. He held out Barty's wand, ready to drop it the moment he disapparated. "Well, I suppose I will see you around the Ministry, Barty—if you manage to stay out of trouble, that is. Also, I must add - please do not try to bring Luna back here. You won't be able to get to her. You will do both yourself and her a favour by just staying out of her life," Arthur Weasley cleared his throat and raised his own wand. "After all, you were never supposed to be a part of each others lives."

There was a loud clatter as Barty's wand dropped to the ground. However, before Barty could even consider diving off the bed to grab it Arthur Weasley had vanished into thin air.


	18. Calm State of Loneliness

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

"...Dawlish told me that Barty's had more of a troubled past than the rest of us realise, which explains why he's...ah..."

"...A maniac? Well, I could've told you that, Dad."

"His records were updated promptly this morning, I checked them while I was visiting the Admin Department—he's had another appointment with the man he was seeing at the Healing Clinic. He's prescribed him a strong Calming Draught, as well as some kind of Muggle medication, which he has to take daily."

"... _medication?_ Wow, it must be serious, then."

Luna awoke to the sound of familiar voices conversing around her. When they noticed her eyes fluttering open, they hushed quickly.

She was back in Percy's old bedroom, Luna quickly realised. Mr and Mrs Weasley, George and Ginny were sitting on a few chairs and the floor beside her bed, watching her with worried eyes. As Luna pushed herself into a sitting position, Mrs Weasley jumped up from her seat, and hurried closer to Luna's side.

"Wha...Barty?" Luna mumbled, still feeling slightly disorientated. She wasn't entirely clear about what had happened to her.

"Luna, dear...would you like something to eat? Eggs, bacon, sausage? It's the middle of the afternoon, but I can quickly whip something up for you." Molly pressed a hand to Luna's forehead, as if she was checking her temperature.

Luna screwed her eyes closed as a loud yawn suddenly stirred within her. She made no effort to cover it up; instead allowing her arms to stretch out and her mouth hang open widely. Molly tactfully flourished her wand in the direction of the open door, and moments later, a ceramic cup of coffee soared through the window and landed on the bedside table.

However, when Luna reached over to grab it gratefully, she almost couldn't contain her excitement. Not because of the magically prepared coffee—sat there on her bedside table was her _wand._ Her fingers closed around the cool wooden stick. Suddenly feeling very alert, she beamed up at the Weasleys. "My wand!"

"We took it from _his_ coat before we woke him up," Ginny told Luna, speaking slowly.

Luna gazed up at her best friend as she spoke, noticing that Ginny was purposefully avoiding saying Barty's name. "What happened?" she asked. It was as though she'd lost a day or two of her memory. The last thing she remembered was wandering up the stairs to clean the upstairs rooms—then she had woken up here. "I don't remember anything." Luna noticed at that moment that Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't in the room with the Weasley's. "Where are the others?"

"Here, have a drink, dear," Molly pressed, pushing the cup of coffee into Luna's hands. Luna took a grateful sip, but placed it back on the bedside table shortly after, looking at Ginny expectantly, who was wearing a rather sheepish expression.

"They had a bit of an argument this morning," Ginny explained. "Harry and Ron wanted to immediately go to Kingsley today to demand that Barty be reprimanded back in Azkaban due to the nature of his... _disorder_."

"That's not fair," Luna said automatically. "Barty doesn't have any kind of _disorder_."

"The Healer he saw yesterday has diagnosed him with something called a personality disorder," Ginny continued. "We don't really know much else about it, yet. But both Harry and Ron agreed he was much too dangerous to be allowed to roam around in public."

"That's not _fair_ ," Luna repeated. "He needs help, not imprisonment."

Arthur Weasley raised an eyebrow at this comment, but he didn't press it. Ginny however, looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, Hermione actually said the same thing after she spoke to the Healer and heard what he had to say. She told Harry and Ron they were being barbaric for wanting a sick man incarcerated in somewhere like Azkaban, which would no doubt finish him off. She said that if he had been mentally ill for the entire time he committed all of his crimes, which is highly likely, he should have been given a fair trial. So _she_ went to the Ministry too, to offer a witness statement as to why Barty was stunned.

"Harry and Ron were going to tell Kingsley that they had been forced to stun Barty because he had attacked us when he emerged from the Healing Clinic," Ginny continued. "But Hermione wasn't having any of it, so she's gone to tell them what really happened."

"Why did you stun Barty?" Luna asked calmly, choosing to ignore the unfair behaviour that Ron and Harry had engaged in.

"It's not _illegal_ , Luna—"

"—I know you wanted to get me out of his house, but I didn't think you would _attack_ him—" Luna put a hand over her mouth the moment she'd said it.

They had attacked Barty because he was an evil ex-Death Eater and he had kept Luna locked away. They had attacked him because they wanted to rescue her, and they knew it would be a lot more difficult than just asking him. She knew all of this to be true, so why was she trying to protect him?

Ginny eyed her judgementally. "Luna, why are you defending him?"

"I'm _not_ ," replied Luna quickly. "Just...why do the Ministry need to know that Barty was stunned?"

"Well, the Ministry think that Barty won't be able to come into work because he was stunned—which naturally looks like he's just playing up a false illness so that he can stay off work. Ron and Harry were happy to go along and let them believe that, but like I said, Hermione was pretty determined to make sure they realised the truth. She even took in a written sickness note from the Healer to ensure that Barty was given the sick leave that he _apparently_ needs." Ginny emphasised the word 'apparently', and looked meaningfully at her father. "Truthfully, I don't know why she's suddenly trying so hard to keep him out of Azkaban, but it's causing a lot of problems between her and Ron."

"Maybe because she's an honest person," Luna replied, slightly nonchalantly, and sat up, swinging her legs out of the bed.

"You're being ridiculous!" Ginny suddenly hissed. "Stop acting like you have some kind of _thing_ going on with this _psychopath!"_

"I don't have a _thing_ with him!" Luna shouted back. "I just don't think it's fair that you _attacked_ him while he was visiting a Healer for his mental health, and then your brother and boyfriend went storming into the Ministry to lie and declare that Barty goes back to Azkaban! Clearly you are bitter because Hermione is doing the right thing."

"The _right thing?_ Luna, that man belongs in Azkaban! He locked you up in there! He _hit_ you!"

"He's not well!" Luna cried. "You don't know what it's like. I've seen what he's like. I've seen who he is behind the Death Eater."

"It's not your place to _fix_ him! You don't need to be involved with him!"

"Well I am involved with him now, Ginny!"

"That—is—enough!" a shrill voice cut in. Molly Weasley glared at Ginny, until her daughter shrunk back, scowling. "Luna needs her rest, she needs to eat, she needs to get back to normal. She's been shut up there for weeks. She needs her friends to be her _friends,_ Ginevra!" Mrs Weasley began to shoo everyone out of the room, until she was the only one who remained. She looked over at Luna, a sad expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Luna. But you really ought to rest," she insisted, and then hurried out of the room, gently closing the door behind her.

But Luna didn't need to rest. She felt riled up, angry, frustrated. The Weasley's were acting as though she had received such terrible treatment, like she hadn't been fed or allowed to wash or sleep. In truth, Luna felt as though she had slept for days—who knew, she probably had. She had no idea what day it was.

She thought about her best friend, and tried not to feel bitter. Even though Luna thought that Ginny was acting quite unfairly, it was only because she cared about her. Ginny, the other Weasleys, and Harry had no idea what had gone on between Barty and Luna when they were at the Crouch Manor. They just wanted to protect their friend.

Even though Luna knew she should be grateful to the Weasley's for putting her up again, she couldn't help but direct her thoughts to Barty. She was concerned, even though she knew that she should just put him out of her mind for now, and get on with her life. But she couldn't help it. Over the past few weeks, he had become a big part of her life—for a while, the _only_ thing in her life, so it was natural that she was going to worry for him, especially now that she had found out he had been to a Healing Clinic and received some kind of scary-sounding diagnosis.

She couldn't imagine how he was reacting, now that he was alone in the manor.

oOo

He was laying on his back on Luna's bed, with his arms and legs spread wide, staring at the swaying light fitting above him.

Barty was exhausted. He was starving, too, but he couldn't build up the energy to eat. He didn't have the energy to do anything but stare into space and swim around in his murky thoughts.

It had only been a day since she had gone, but it felt like a lifetime. He was so dangerously angry with the meddling idiots who had stunned him and taken her, sticking their noses into their business and ruining his life. He wished desperately that he could be at work—working with Stamford in the Admin Department was dreadfully boring, but at least it would offer him a welcome distraction from his own thoughts.

Doctor Babar had insisted he take a week of sickness leave after the appointment and the episode where he was stunned, in order to get used to his new medication regime and have some time to himself. But Barty didn't _want_ time to himself. He had spent many long, painful years in his own company. He didn't want to be alone.

Thankfully, Doctor Babar had offered to visit Barty as often as he could during the week, and John Dawlish had already been once since his sick leave began.

Doctor Babar had arrived a few hours after the Weasley's and Potter had disapparated from his house yesterday. Within an hour he'd whipped up a huge vat of a Calming Draught, and insisted that he take a cupful of it every morning, along with two hundred milligrams of a Muggle drug called Quetiapine, which he assured would stabilise Barty's moods if he stuck to it routinely.

Barty was reluctant to take Muggle drugs initially, but after Doctor Babar repeated the warning of his re-incarceration to Azkaban should he show any signs of instability in public, he agreed to take them. Even though he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of putting a Muggle-made chemical into his body, he knew it surely couldn't be worse than going back to Azkaban.

So he took his medication and his Calming Draught, and truthfully, Barty could say that he was already feeling better. Within a few moments of swallowing down the potion, he could feel tension and rage unfolding within him like a huge belt buckle loosening. He felt as though he was breathing for the first time; like he was seeing clearly through a fog he hadn't realised was clouding his vision.

It was in these moments that he could observe his feelings about Luna more clearly. Now that he had more control of his erratic thoughts and emotions, he was more aware just how strongly her entry into his life had impacted on him.

Something about her had enticed him and sucked him in. He seemed not to care about the age gap between them, or even the Unbreakable Vow that had brought them together. Whenever he closed his eyes, he fell into a vision of her wide, goggling grey eyes, and felt her air of strangeness enveloping him. When she had been here with him, he had tried not to notice or pay attention to these feelings, but now that she was gone...

It was impossible to ignore anymore. He felt as though something inside him was missing, like he had lived with Luna his entire life.

Something about her was changing him. When he first left Azkaban, he was angry. Angry with the Ministry for ever incarcerating him and then releasing him. Angry with his dead father for everything he'd ever done. Angry with his dead Dark Lord for failing to create a new world that he would be able to adapt to. He had taken Luna because it was easy, she was someone who he could control. It gave him that sense of power back. He wanted to be feared again, because it was easier to get people to hate him than it was to love him.

But even though Luna might have started out hating him, he was pretty sure she didn't completely despise him anymore, even if she tried to convince herself and others that she did. Barty had tried to assure himself that he didn't really like her either, and he just kept her here because he could.

He sighed as he continued to stare up at the swaying light fitting, vaguely wondered why there even _was_ a light fitting in this bedroom, as there had never been electricity before it had been renovated. The Calming Draught was restricting the impulses he often had to destroy everything around him. The thought of picking up a plate and smashing it against the wall now just filled him with a lack of energy, rather than a sense of release.

Even though he was so relaxed, inwardly he felt insane. He didn't want to be pining for a girl. He hadn't felt this way about a girl ever, not even the only girl he had ever been in a real relationship with.

He hadn't even noticed how attached he'd become to Luna.


	19. Periwinkle Blue

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

 **Warning: This chapter contains smut.**

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oOo

A week at the Weasley household quickly passed, and Luna was thankful when the next Monday rolled around—even though she didn't really have much to do.

Even though the Weasley's had helped her, Luna couldn't help but feel just as trapped in the Burrow as she had done whilst she was staying with Barty. Of course Mrs Weasley meant well, but she was reluctant to allow Luna to do anything that could potentially jeopardize her safety.

Whenever Luna suggested taking a walk over the hill to her own house to collect any of her belongings, Molly dived into a long spiel about how it would be the first place that Barty would be. Whenever she was sitting in the room or kitchen, fully dressed and hoping to take a wander outside, Molly insisted she go back upstairs to bed.

It was like she had Dragon Pox and was being kept under constant house arrest. Luna didn't know how to explain to Molly that she wasn't an invalid without sounding ungrateful for the hospitality.

On one late night whilst everyone was asleep, Luna had braved sneaking out of the Burrow and heading to her old home. She didn't know what she was looking for—of course she knew that her father would be long gone—she just wanted to feel something a little more familiar. It had only taken a quick _Alohamora_ spell to break into her house, yet just a few moments after she entered, she had wanted to instantly leave. It was empty, not just of possessions but of the vibrancy that she and her father had filled it with. Now it was just a hollow shell of the home it used to be, and it only upset Luna to be there.

She picked up a scribbled note from her father on the way out. It wasn't addressed to her personally, just to anyone who might stumble across it. Xenophilius had stated in his letter that he was taking a tour of the world, and during that time, the _Quibbler_ would be on hold. His letter claimed that he was planning on discovering real evidence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

For a few moments Luna felt quite depressed. Even though she knew that Xenophilius had planned to go to Scotland and not on a world tour, she wished that she was travelling with her father; finding various curiosities that they could admire and study together. She wished she could just have a few moments to talk with him in person, but she knew he had to stay away—Barty was too unstable at the moment.

In her momentary gloom, all Luna wanted to do was apparate back to that manor in London, and crawl under the covers of the comfortable, four-poster bed that occupied the room at the very top of the house. But she knew that wasn't the right way to go. Barty needed space to get better, and she was still trying to convince herself that she didn't need to remain involved with him. She was free of imprisonment, now.

On the morning of her seventh day at the Burrow, Luna was up bright and early. She had made plans to go back home again and attempt to inject some life into the house, with the intention of eventually starting the _Quibbler_ back up and running again in her father's absence. However, Molly came flying down the stairs, ready to suffocate Luna at the nearest opportunity.

"Hello dear, can I get you something to eat? Some toast? You're up early, Luna! Not planning on going somewhere, are you? You remember you did agree to work on the invitations with Ginny and I today, then we have a few other things planned..."

Luna almost planted her face on the desk in stress. Now that Luna was considered safe and well, Ginny had thrown herself into planning her wedding, due to the fact that she wasn't actively worrying about her best friend.

This would be completely fine, if Ginny wasn't the ultimate Bridezilla.

She and Harry had planned to have their wedding in less than eight weeks, just a few days before the new year, right here at the Burrow. Ginny had become a madwoman—if she awoke any later than six a.m., she was convinced that her entire day of planning would be ruined. Her wedding dress had been chosen and handmade weeks by Fleur and Madame Delacour weeks ago, but Ginny still quibbled with it on an almost daily basis; dressing it on a mannequin, removing bits by magic and reattaching them, using her wand to elongate and reduce the size of the train repetitively. Then there were the invitations, the napkins, the table centrepieces, the flowers, the cake—even ridiculous things like the satin wraps that would adorn the backs of the chairs. She had spent an entire day crying in the kitchen after insisting to her mother that she wanted to make the wedding cake herself, but when she attempted a practice cake (having never baked anything before in her life), she mixed up the ingredients with a bad spell.

She was constantly nagging Harry, but Luna found it difficult to be sympathetic towards him, particularly after his insistence to have Barty reincarnated in Azkaban. When he and Ron weren't spending their days working at the Ministry, they had taken to using their evenings and weekends to play Quidditch out on the hills around the Burrow, keeping well out of Ginny's way.

But Luna didn't seem to be permitted an excuse to escape. She didn't know if it was because she was female, or because she was Ginny's best friend, but her week spent in the Burrow meant a week spent being dragged into the stressful wedding plans with Ginny and Molly. She had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to be Ginny's bridesmaid, but Luna was beginning to wonder if she would have turned the offer down, should she have known how much work was expected of her.

She loved Ginny and the Weasleys, and appreciated everything that they had done for her, but by the end of the week, Luna was beginning to inwardly long for the solace and tranquillity of her quiet days spent at Barty's house, and her large, airy room in the top room of the manor.

But of course, she would never let them know this. Ginny had completely stopped talking about Barty, and promptly rose her voice to discuss doilies or dinner plates whenever someone mentioned his name in a conversation.

The thought of missing Barty and his house humiliated Luna, even though no one else knew about it. While ever she had been at the house, she had longed to be free—well, most of the time, anyway—but now she could think of nothing more peaceful than being back there.

Luna had nodded to every question that Mrs Weasley asked that morning, before plunging herself into her thoughts, and Molly had begun rushing around, serving up tea and toast and pulling out the huge notebook that contained hers and Ginny's wedding plans. Luna had just begun to think of an excuse to get herself out of it for the day, when Mr Weasley sat down at the table.

She perked up considerably at his arrival. He didn't often have time to have breakfast with them—he usually grabbed a slice of toast, kissed Molly and then jumped straight into the fireplace. But he sat straight across from Luna that morning, wearing a bright grin on his friendly face.

"It's been absolutely hectic at work lately," he began to ramble. "I'm dreading going back in today—I just know there'll be another load of random enchanted Muggle items to deal with. Just on Friday I had a babbling toilet—horrible, really. Kept spitting back out the...well, you know," Mr Weasley shifted uncomfortably.

Molly wandered over to the table and placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of Mr Weasley. "Oh Arthur, Luna doesn't want to hear about your babbling toilet," she snapped, before turning her attention on Luna. "We're going into Diagon Alley later today, dear. Ginny wants to see you in a few bridesmaids dresses."

The thought filled Luna with dread. A sudden vision of Ginny and Molly arguing over various sheets of material in shades of cream and pastel pink sparked into her mind, and her stomach turned. She could think of nothing worse.

Before she could reply, however, Mr Weasley spoke first. "Actually, Molly, I was just about to ask Luna if she wanted to come and help me out at the Ministry today. I could definitely do with a hand around those babbling toilets."

Luna tried, but failed to hold back the beam that she flashed at Mr Weasley.

"Of course she doesn't want to do that!" Molly continued.

"Oh, leave her alone, Molly. It'll do her good to get out of the house and get a bit of work experience—you're planning to go home and work on the _Quibbler_ while Xeno's abroad, aren't you Luna?"

"Eventually, yes," Luna replied. She looked over at Mrs Weasley, forcing an apologetic look over the deep sense of glee that she was really feeling. "I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley—I do think this would be a good opportunity for me."

"Oh," Molly looked crestfallen. "Well, Ginny will be disappointed. But I suppose if we see a nice dress, we can buy it and you can try it on tomorrow." Molly scooped up Luna's empty breakfast bowl before Luna could reply, and flounced over to the sink.

Luna knew that she ought to feel bad that Molly was obviously upset about her decision—but she couldn't help but be utterly delighted. A day spent at the Ministry was the _perfect_ opportunity for her to get back to her old self, and some work experience was just what she needed.

Luckily, Luna had previously had the good sense to retrieve most of her clothes from home. She rushed upstairs to the room she was occupying in the Burrow, and dressed in her smartest set of robes—a pretty blue two-piece which consisted of a long sleeved, floor length, button down gown with a low, flattering neckline, and a matching cloak that fastened to the back of the garment. She combed her unruly hair to the best of her ability and twirled it into an updo on the top of her head to keep it out of her face, but several long blonde tendrils fell down around her cheeks and neck almost immediately.

Less than ten minutes later, she had her wand and anything else she might need in a small leather bag that Ginny had loaned to her, and was standing in the living room with Mr Weasley. They stepped into the fireplace together after waving goodbye to Mrs Weasley, and Mr Weasley took a handful of Floo Powder from the bowl on the mantle, and threw it to the floor of the Fireplace. "Ministry of Magic!" he called, and the Fireplace engulfed the pair of them in vibrant green flames.

A little while later, and Luna was being shown into Mr Weasley's office—the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. She noted, thankfully, that the babbling toilet wasn't there, so waited patiently as Mr Weasley sorted her out somewhere to sit. After a flick of his wand, a hefty brown notebook had transfigured into a wooden chair, and Mr Weasley levitated it towards the other side of his desk, beckoning for Luna to sit down.

"Don't worry, Luna," he told her cheerfully as she sat down tentatively at the desk. "It's just paperwork we'll be doing, but if we split it and get it done quickly, I'll be able to show you some of the more interesting perks of my job!" He pushed some writing supplies towards her and explained the simple task that she was to perform, and Luna set to work straight away.

It was blissfully nice to be doing something. To be thinking about work and calculations and spells, and not feelings and Barty and family and friends. At that moment, she had nothing to worry about but the task in front of her, and it was the greatest feeling she had experienced in weeks.

oOo

Barty was up bright and early for his first day at work, already medicated and carrying an extra flask of Calming Draught in the pocket of his robes, just in case things got a little too difficult at work. Stamford had sent him an owl already saying that he would understand if Barty was going to be late today, but Barty shunned the owl. Quite frankly, he'd had enough of spending time in his own company, rattling around in the empty old house. He was ready to get back to work, and hopefully catch sight of one of those damned Weasleys.

He planned to get Luna back to his home one way or another—but he was taking the safe route, and opting to get her to return on her own terms.

The Calming Draught worked wonderfully as he floated through the Ministry towards the Admin Department, feeling elated and surprisingly uncaring about the glances that people were shooting in his direction. It was hard to avoid thinking about Luna—every now and then he got a glimpse of a blonde head of an airy voice, but he brushed it off. He was sure he would see her soon.

When he got to his office, Stamford looked uncomfortable, and he began to awkwardly discuss how Barty was feeling now that he had received his diagnosis. Barty made no attempt to engage in this conversation, which left Stamford looking relieved, and instead began to work silently on his humongous stack of records. Today it appeared that he would be sorting through the birth records of every witch and wizard that had been born in Britain for the last five centuries, an intimidating task that would normally make him want to tear his hear out. However, thanks to the blissful effects of the Calming Draught, he found that he could work mindfully and effectively, without even a shred of anger.

He didn't know why he hadn't considered brewing a Calming Draught before. It was a miracle potion.

The time seemed to fly by, and soon it was one o' clock, and Stamford came over to relieve him for lunch. Barty jumped up at the opportunity to grab something to eat, and left the remainder of the records on his desk, before heading down to the Atrium.

Just behind the lifts was a large, open floor café with a huge array of seats and tables, called _Ministry Munchies_. He quickly bought himself a sandwich and a carton of pumpkin juice, and took a seat as far away from the queue of hungry witches and wizards as he could.

As he was eating his lunch, he became gradually aware that the Calming Draught was beginning to wear off. A couple of short, squat witches were sitting at a table in front of him, and they were whispering loudly, and occasionally turning around to give him obvious glances. He felt a flutter of irritation in his stomach initially, which began to slowly grow into flat out rage, until he could hold it in no longer. He stood up quickly so that his chair toppled over loudly, and began to walk towards the witches.

However, his attention was quickly diverted when he spotted someone over in the café queue.

A witch dressed in periwinkle blue, a stark contrast to the men and women around her in their dark, winter robes and cloaks, was standing a few feet away from the serving witch. The robes trailed on the floor and were gathered at the back with a bow, bringing attention to her narrow waist. She had a leather bag over her shoulder, which had a blue cloak folded over it, and her long, straggly blonde hair was fastened up messily. There were a pair of strange earrings hanging from her earlobes; they looked an awful lot like radishes...

Barty suddenly changed direction from the gossiping witches, heading straight for the queue, and not daring to blink or look away in case he was hallucinating. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she whipped around so fast that the skirts of her robes swirled around her ankles. Her wide, glittering silver eyes softened at the sight of him, but her brow wrinkled. "Barty?" she whispered, her eyes flickering across his face.

Barty glanced around her wildly, but he couldn't see any sign of Potter, Granger or any of the red-headed Weasleys. When he looked back at Luna, she appeared to be performing the same scan of the Ministry. "Let's go talk somewhere," he muttered in a low voice, and he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the queue. A few people raised their eyebrows as Barty began to haul her through the Atrium, but nobody said a word.

They reached the back of the Atrium and climbed into the visitors entrance; a Muggle telephone box, and soared into the deserted Muggle street above. As soon as they were outside of the telephone box, Barty recommenced dragging her through the street, until they came across a secluded alleyway, a few hundred yards away from the visitors entrance. He pushed her against the wall, trapping her there between his arms.

"Barty," Luna panted, gazing up at him apologetically. She was breathless from practically running through the Ministry. "Please don't be angry or do anything reckless. I didn't mean for it to happen. It was a—"

"—I'm not angry with you," Barty interrupted her swiftly. "I'm angry with your _heroic_ rescuers."

"You can't do anything to them, Barty, please," begged Luna desperately. "They're my friends. They just wanted to help me."

"You were fine with me," Barty snapped.

"They didn't know that. I'd stopped writing to them...they were worried...Barty, please don't hurt them."

There was a wicked glint in Barty's eye. "I can't promise that, Luna. They took you away from me." Barty paused, and suddenly narrowed his eyes down at her. "Why didn't you come straight back?"

"Barty...things were...it was becoming...confusing..." she replied, looking uncomfortable. "I needed...I needed some time...I needed my wand back!"

Barty noticed the way that she hesitated before blurting out her excuse, and how her cheeks tinged pink and she averted her gaze from his face. "You didn't want to go with them, did you?" Barty asked, beginning to lean closer to her. "You wanted to stay." He could smell the powdery, flowery scent of her shampoo, something that he hadn't realised he'd missed in her absence. "I can take you by force if I have to," he added in a dangerous tone.

"They'll just come back for me," Luna replied in a whisper, but her voice wobbled. She wasn't looking into his eyes; she was staring at his lips, and biting down on her own nervously.

"I'll be ready for them this time," purred Barty in response. Before she could reply this time, Barty's mouth had crashed into hers, and he was suddenly kissing her—hard.

His hands fell to her waist and he pulled her lithe body towards him, deepening the kiss. At first she appeared reluctant, and murmured into his mouth, but before long she had given in and was kissing him back passionately, her eyelids falling shut. She threw her arms around his neck and allowed her hands to roam through his hair, keeping his face firmly attached to hers. He slid his hands down lower until they were beneath her buttocks, and then he lifted her off the ground, pressing her back into the wall, and she wound her legs around his waist.

Luna flattened her hands to the sides of his slightly stubbly face, holding him into the kiss, and Barty allowed his hands to roam across the expanse of her torso. Her entire body emitted an earthquake-like shudder as his fingers danced across her stomach and chest, before he fingered the neck of her collar. In one swift, sudden move, he had ripped apart the top half of the garment she was wearing, sending buttons flying in every direction.

A gasp of shock emerged from Luna's mouth as Barty cupped her breast suddenly and began to attack her neck and collarbone with his lips, running wet, hard kisses along the expanse of skin between her shoulder and her ear. Her eyes rolled back and she lolled her head against the wall, whimpering softly.

"Barty...lunch break is nearly...over..." she whined.

He pulled the cup of her bra aside and groaned into the flesh of her neck, his calloused fingers sliding across her nipple. "I don't care."

"You'll get into trouble...ah..." Luna's voice tailed off as Barty's mouth covered her breast momentarily. He leaned back into her face afterwards and kissed her hotly, grinding his hips into hers.

"I'll send Stamford an owl and tell him I was sick," he breathed into her mouth. He drew back, lowering her carefully to the ground again. She was flustered, red faced, with her hair falling out of it's updo and struggling to pull her torn robes over her exposed chest. "Luna, we have to sort something, first."

"What is it?" she replied slowly, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

"I don't want it to be like last time," he told her. "I _could_ take you against your will. But I want you to want to come with me."

Luna stared up at him, her eyes quivering with a mixture of fear and excitement. A barrage of images began to flicker through her mind like a slideshow—Mrs Weasley and Ginny out shopping for her bridesmaid dress, Mr Weasley sitting back at the office waiting for her arrival, as well as every conversation she'd had with Hermione over the week. Harry, Hermione and the Weasley's would be overwhelmed with worry and anxiety at the moment they realised she wasn't coming home, and they would almost definitely set out to retrieve her again. Luna didn't think she could put them through that stress again, not when Ginny was planning her wedding.

But in those few, lustful moments she spent staring up at Barty, she realised that she didn't _want_ to do the 'right' thing. Her head was swimming with an array of confusing thoughts and feelings, and all she wanted to do was be sucked back into the sensation of kissing Barty against that wall.

So, choosing to think with her heart and not her head, Luna tentatively took Barty's outstretched hands, and they disapparated together on the spot.


	20. Lunchtime Lust

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

 **Another casual reminder that you can find aesthetics and spoilers for the future of the Unfixables on my tumblr if you are interested! Search for me at screaming-fae. There is a new OC character that will be being introduced at some point, if you are interested in learning more!**

 **Chapter Warning:** This chapter references to smut. A large portion of MA content has been removed as it is a little too explicit for FFs guidelines, so I have transferred it to my AO3 account, where you can read it here (if you are a Mature Adult!):

archive of our own (dot org, slash) /works/4350437

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oOo

At two o' clock when Luna didn't return from lunch, Mr Weasley was only mildly worried. It wasn't like she was an actual employee there, she was just helping him out—she was more than entitled to take a longer lunch, if she so wished. However, when the clock struck three, Mr Weasley couldn't help but fear the worst.

His first thoughts were of Barty, but he managed to calm himself down. It was likely that Barty wasn't back in the office just yet. His sick week would only just have transpired, and Stamford was the type to allow him a few extra days off if necessary. However, it had been obvious to everyone at the Burrow that Luna didn't completely despise Barty, and the idea that she might make a run for it back to his home wasn't completely unlikely.

Trying to convince himself that Luna had probably just lost track of time, or maybe that Molly had sent an emergency owl to her regarding some wedding related drama, Mr Weasley hurried out of his office and down into the depths of the Ministry, where the Admin Department was located.

When he burst though the door of Stamford's office five minutes later, his heart flooded with relief. The little desk by the wall was completely empty, and there was no spare cloak on the coat rack. Stamford looked over at Mr Weasley expectantly.

"Ah, Arthur! Long time, no see. What brings you down to these miserable depths? I'm sure there's much more interesting shenanigans going on up there in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office...what was this I heard about a babbling toilet?"

"Yes, yes, disgusting stuff," Mr Weasley gabbled quickly. "I had a bit of business to discuss with Mr Crouch, but I see he's not back in the office yet. Poor fellow, I'm sure he needs all the extra days off work he can."

"Crouch?" Stamford placed down the quill he'd been writing with, and shook his head. "Oh no, Crouch was all too happy to get back into work. He was in here half an hour early this morning, in fact. No, he's back at work, only he was feeling a bit under the weather during lunchtime. He sent an owl to be about an hour ago to say he wasn't going to be returning this afternoon, so I've cleared his desk ready for tomorrow," Stamford lowered his voice. "I didn't question him, but I think he may not have had enough of his _potion_ this morning." Stamford practically hissed the word 'potion', offering Mr Weasley a knowing look.

Mr Weasley felt his stomach drop to the floor. Barty had conveniently become ill this afternoon, and Luna had mysteriously vanished after her lunch break? It didn't take a genius to work that one out. Cursing himself, Mr Weasley hurried out of the Admin Department, so that he could write to his wife.

Molly was going to _kill_ him.

oOo

As soon as Barty and Luna had entered the hallway of the Crouch Manor, he had reached down to pick Luna up by the waist, and she had wound her legs around his middle and her arms around his neck as Barty proceeded to carry her to the top of the manor.

She was warm and pliable as he pressed her against the large window in Luna's bedroom, kissing him intensely and pressing her body as close to his as possible. After a few moments, Barty carried her across the the bed and gentle laid her down on the neat, indigo quilt. Her breathing was heavy as she gazed up at him carefully, determined to watch every move he made.

His hands found the torn middle of her robes, and in one slow, fluid motion, he had ripped the rest of the garment apart, leaving her feeling extremely vulnerable as she laid there in her demure white underwear. Barty pulled the robes from beneath her body and discarded them on the floor, and scanned her body hungrily as he began to unbutton his own robes. Luna sat up to assist, pushing his cloak over his shoulders, and then clambered under the covers to the top of the bed as he dropped his clothes alongside hers.

Barty followed her, and for several moments they laid together side by side, kissing each other slowly. He held her face with one hand as he kissed her, and the fingers of the other hand roamed across the expanse of the side of her body, dancing tentatively from her ribs to her hipbone. Their semi-bare bodies were pressed together tightly, and Luna was sure that the sharp ting of electricity was flickering between them.

He rolled her onto her back so that he was laying on top of her, and Luna realised that she felt slightly intimidated by the hungry look in his preying, deep brown eyes. However, she knew it was too late to back out now—and frankly, she didn't know if she would want to. He began to lay kisses across her torso, starting at her throat and slowly travelling across her collarbone, breastplate, and stomach. His tongue was warm, soft and wet, and every touch he laid upon her with it sent jolts of pleasure right down to her groin.

Luna tried to fight back the blush that was beginning to slowly warm her face, as Barty crawled on top of her, using his arms to prop himself up and hover over her. "Will it hurt?" she asked finally, after a few minutes of struggling for words.

It was something that she had never been entirely comfortable discussing. Due to losing her mother young, Luna never heard about the Birds and the Bees from her maternal figure, and Xenophilius never really felt up to the job, choosing to babble a few loose, disconnected details about storks and baskets and lonely mothers and fathers, before rushing out of the room instead of complete the story. There was no kind of explanation that was offered to her at Hogwarts, so instead, Luna had to learn about sex from what she heard from the other girls in the Ravenclaw Common Room. She was positive that Ginny would have done it with Harry, but Luna never really felt the need to bring it up in conversation. However now, Luna wished she had—any form of advice would have benefited her greatly, having no experience in this field whatsoever.

Even though anxiety was swelling in her chest, Luna couldn't push away a bigger feeling, something that just wanted to be close to Barty, no matter what the cost.

"Not the way I do it," he replied with a lazy smirk. "Just relax."

oOo

"You _lost_ her?" Molly screamed, the moment that Mr Weasley walked through the door at five p.m., looking extremely sheepish.

"I didn't _lose_ her, Molly," he began to explain. "She went for lunch, and she never came back."

" _Why on earth_ did you let her go for lunch on her own?"

"She's a grown woman, Molly! I can't keep her shackled to me for the whole day!"

"I know I should've insisted that she stayed here. She should've come to Diagon Alley with Ginny and I. No, she should've stayed in the house where she was safe. You're absolutely useless, Arthur!"

"You wanted to keep her under lock and key, just like he did? Molly, we had to give her a bit of freedom."

Before Molly could react to Arthur's last statement, Harry and Ron burst into the kitchen from the back garden, just as Hermione wandered down the stairs.

"What's going on in here?" Ron asked his parents, raising his eyebrows. Everyone in the Burrow was more than used to Molly's voice reaching exceptionally loud heights, but it wasn't very often that Mr Weasley dared to contradict anything she said.

Mr Weasley relayed the days events to the trio quickly, making sure to stress that he wasn't entirely sure that Luna was with Barty. It made no difference to Harry and Ron, however, as they became automatically convinced of her whereabouts.

"He's kidnapped her again, then," claimed Harry immediately.

"We should get down there straight away. We know his address now—we can jump straight in the Floo Network and surprise him," chided Ron.

"You don't know that she's with him!" hissed Hermione suddenly, shooting Ron a dirty look. The pair of them hadn't been on the best of terms since he and Harry had gone to the Ministry with the intention of having Barty reprimanded straight back into Azkaban, despite his mental illness. "Even if she is—we don't even know the circumstances, yet. She could've willingly gone back there, for all we know."

"Why would she do that?" Ron demanded to know. "Yes, 'Mione—that's just what she wants to do. Go to work and then run off with the psychopath that kidnapped her once already—honestly, I think you've dumbed down since leaving Hogwarts," he reached over to rap his fist sarcastically on her skull, but she swiped his hand away, glaring at him dangerously.

"She wasn't kidnapped, she told us that," muttered Hermione. "She went with him willingly."

"Because he was going to kill her bloody dad if she didn't!"

"Enough!" shrieked Molly suddenly, clutching at her temples and sending a stressful glance at everyone standing in the kitchen, lingering for a little longer on Mr Weasley. "We will sort this. But for Merlin's sake—not until Ginny has finished messing with Luna's bridesmaids dress. I don't need to be dealing with her ruining another one."

oOo

Barty and Luna were lying silently in bed together, staring up at the ceiling for several minutes after Barty had fallen off of her. Slowly, Luna rolled onto her side, so that she was facing him.

As she studied his slightly lined face and deep, chestnut coloured eyes, she couldn't believe what they had just done. Luna always assumed that she would lose her virginity to the man that she would eventually marry, whoever that would turn out to be. She definitely did not suspect that it would be with a crazy ex-Death Eater, who was nearly twice her age, and who had been released from Azkaban just several weeks ago. Not to mention how he had kept her incarcerated in his house with no wand, and forced her to do chores for him.

When Barty noticed Luna watching him, he held out an arm, inviting her to crawl over to him and rest her head on his chest. "What did we just do?" she whispered once her ear was pressed to his warm chest, and she could hear his heart thudding.

Barty's fingers squeezed her shoulder gently. "Shagged," he replied blandly, and Luna didn't miss the sharp edge to his voice. She didn't question it.

"Barty?" she murmured, not wanting any tension to divide them now that they seemed to have reached a breaking point. "Ginny told me that she stunned you...outside a Healing Clinic?"

A long silence followed her questioning statement, and she began to wonder if she should have kept quiet about this subject for a little while. Barty suddenly pushed her away and sat up bolt upright, before climbing out of the bed, reaching for his robes. "What of it?" he snapped, not looking at her.

Luna clutched the sheet around her naked body, her eyes growing wide as she blinked up at him. "Well...I was just...wondering..."

"What were you wondering?" he hissed, turning to glare at her.

"Barty," Luna whispered, keeping her eyes trained on him.

He reached down and seized her by the shoulders, hauling her to her feet. Luna almost fell flat on her face in her haste to keep the sheet wrapped around her. "Haven't you heard the rumours, Luna?" he yelled, causing her to flinch. "I'm crazy! Not just a little bit crazy, either. Crazy-crazy! _Textbook_ crazy! With medication and potion and other useless shit!"

His hands released Luna's shoulders, and he began to storm over to the window as he pulled his trousers onto his body, continuing to yell incoherently.

"Barty, please calm down," Luna cried out to him, quickly reaching out to pull her torn robes over her body. "What do you want me to do? I don't know how to help you!" Luna had never raised her voice to him in the time that she had known him, but she was extremely taken aback. Less than two minutes ago, everything seemed perfect. Yes, she was still confused by what she had just done and why she had done it, but she had enjoyed it nonetheless. But now Barty was acting like this.

Barty seemed to be thinking the same thing. He had his forehead pressed against the window as he stood there shirtless. His mouth was hanging open, as if he was about to retaliate, but his body was suddenly frozen. He slid down the window slowly, until he was kneeling on the floor.

"Potion...Luna...potion..."

Luna hurried over to his side, crouching down and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked desperately, trying to take a look into his face.

"Downstairs!" he shouted suddenly. "The potion...I need it..." his breathing was accelerating, and he reached out to clutch at his throat, as if his airways were tightening. He looked as though he was panicking.

She jumped to her feet and dashed quickly out of the bedroom, flying down the stairs until she reached the kitchen. Sitting on the tabletop was a small black cauldron, filled to the brim with a cool, sea-blue potion. A cup sat beside it, and Luna quickly dunked the cup into the liquid, filling it to the top. She hurried up the stairs with the cup, careful not to spill a single drop.

Barty was leaning against the window when Luna re-entered the bedroom, with his head hanging. He was shaking and he was breathing even faster than he had been previously.

Acting quickly, Luna tipped his head back and pressed the brim of the cup to Barty's lips, and poured the potion into his mouth. He swallowed it gratefully, and sighed once he had finished every last drop.

The effects of the potion were instantaneous. His breathing slowed right down, and the shivering stopped immediately. His eyes fluttered closed, and he rolled away from the window, laying back on the carpet with a long sigh.

"Barty," Luna murmured, not knowing quite what to say. Instead of choosing one thing to ask him, a flood of questions burst from her lips. "What just happened? What's wrong with you? Why do you have to take this potion? Why did you..." she paused to catch her breath. "Why were you so angry with me...right after..."

"I was worried," Barty muttered. His voice sounded fluid and calm now, and it reflected onto Luna instantly. She felt her tense muscles relaxing, and she released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in. "What just happened...it was so...spontaneous and unexpected. I was...I was worried you were going to leave me again." Barty kept his eyes closed. "It's easier to be angry with you for potentially leaving, instead of begging you to stay."

Luna stared down at him, feeling pity for this man rising in her stomach. "Are you really..." she searched her mind desperately for the right word, not wanting to trigger another outburst—even though she was pretty sure he would be fairly calm now, after taking his potion. "Unwell?"

"Apparently," he drawled. "But I can get better if I keep taking the medication," Barty was yawning. "It won't be cured completely..the good Doctor Babar says I'm...what was it... _unfixable_. But I can get better with the potion and the medication. I can get better...I can get better if I stay with you." Barty let out a soft snore, and suddenly he was asleep.

Luna continued to watch him as he slept on the carpet, his chest rising and falling. He looked so peaceful, so serene, that it was slightly mesmerizing to see him like this.

There was some kind of attachment he had to her. He had basically just admitted that. He needed her to get better, or so he said. Luna didn't know if she could bear that much pressure, but she soon brushed off those thoughts.

How could she just abandon someone who needed her help so bad?

Luna wanted to help him. She tried to convince herself that it was her basic human nature to try and fix this broken, hollow shell of a man—but deep down, another thought was pushed well away.

It wasn't entirely unlikely that Luna didn't need Barty, either.


	21. Stockholm Syndrome

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

"How can this be happening _again?_ " Ginny howled after her father had finished talking, glaring around the room at her family.

Once again, her wedding plans were to be postponed, because Luna had gone missing _again_. Well, she hadn't really gone missing—Ginny knew exactly where she was. It was just a matter of getting her back again.

Mr Weasley had told the family that it was common knowledge around the Ministry that Barty had taken another week off. Stamford was all too happy for him to take extra time off, particularly as he had received a letter from Barty's Mind-healer, granting Barty permission for further leave.

As soon as Mr Weasley had finished explaining what he had learned from work that day, Ginny folded her arms and looked expectantly around at her family. "So?" she started, shooting questioning glances all around. "What's the plan, this time?" she had a stack of _Witch Weekly Wedding_ issues to sift through if she wanted to get her wedding organised promptly, so she wanted to get Luna back as soon as possible. Not to mention Luna's bridesmaid's dress, which was hanging in her bedroom, completely untouched.

Hermione was the first one to reply, looking slightly sheepish. "Ginny..." she murmured, her brown eyes wide and apologetic. "I think you need to consider the facts here."

"What facts?" scoffed Ron. "She's back with that maniac; we need to go back and get her. Simple." Hermione glared at him meaningfully, but Ron stared back, his arms folded. Things had not been completely right between them since Hermione had been the one to sabotage his and Harry's attempts to convince Kingsley to reprimand Barty back into Azkaban.

"Luna could have gone there completely willingly, this time," Hermione continued. "You know it's possible. She might _want_ to be there with him."

"Why in the world would she want that, Hermione?" interjected Harry, looking aghast.

"Ginny was the one who noticed that Luna was acting weird and awkward whenever someone mentioned Barty Crouch, always jumping to defend him, hiding in her room and just generally being odd—"

"—more odd than usual?" snapped Ron.

"—she isn't in _love_ with him—" started Ginny.

"—no one said anything about _love_ ," finished Hermione. "It's classic Stockholm Syndrome."

"What's that, one of those garish Muggle music groups?" asked Ron, earning another glare from Hermione.

"No," she snapped impatiently. "It's a psychological phenomenon, in which hostages often begin to feel positively towards their captors, to the point of expressing love for them."

"Well then it's simple," Harry butt in. "We get Luna back, take her to St. Mungo's, and they can find her a Mind Healer who will extinguish this Stockholm Syndrome from her head."

"It doesn't work like that, Harry!" shouted Hermione.

"Don't yell at him!" Ginny defended. "He was making a _suggestion_."

"Will you all just be quiet!" shouted Mrs Weasley suddenly, clutching her temples. "Can we all just have a minute to think! But before you all dive into that fireplace with the intention of heroically bursting to Luna's defence, consider your own lives! I suggest you write Luna a letter." With that final note, Mrs Weasley jumped up from the settee and stalked off into the kitchen, presumably to find a healing spell that would cure her headache.

"I'm not writing Luna another letter," muttered Ginny under her breath. "Not if it's anything like last time. If it is, she won't even be able to get one. It's pointless." She turned her attention to Hermione, glowering a little. "I'm going to go there, Hermione. I have a wedding to plan, and this Barty Crouch thing is tearing us all apart. It's up to you whether you want to come or not, but I'm going."

Hermione sighed, and leaned back in her seat. "I suppose you're right," she grumbled, staring idly into space. "We need to know where we stand. Whether we need to be looking out for her or not."

"Right, so we're all agreed?" Ron asked, looking between his sister and his girlfriend. When they both nodded, he continued. "Okay. So what should we do?"

"I say we do exactly what your Mum doesn't want us to do," Harry insisted, though his voice was lowered so that Mrs Weasley wouldn't overhear. "We just burst straight in. We have his address. We know where he lives. What's the worst that could happen?" he ignored the pointed look that Hermione gave him. "If we all go, it's four against one. Sure, he used to be a Death Eater—but it was us who ended _Voldemort_."

"You're right, mate," nodded Ron.

"I agree," chimed in Ginny.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but nodded quietly. "When are we going to do it? We should sort things out, make sure we have a plan. Perhaps next week when he's back at work—"

"—I say we do it right now," interrupted Harry. "There's no time like the present. If we wait, there's more chance for Mrs Weasley to stop us. Also, whose to say he won't disconnect his fireplace from the Floo Network?"

Ron and Ginny climbed up from their seats, nodding, and Hermione followed—albeit slightly hesitantly.

"Let's go, before she comes back in," Ron muttered, and the four of them headed towards the fireplace. They climbed inside, trying to remain as quiet as possible to ensure that Mrs Weasley wouldn't hear them. In a low voice, Harry murmured Barty's address, and green flames erupted around their ankles.

The last thing any of them saw before they were sucked into the depths of the fireplace, was Mrs Weasley streaming into the living room, yelling something that none of them could hear.

oOo

Just a few moments later, they were stepping onto the carpet of the living room in the Crouch Manor. One by one, they removed their wands from their pockets and trod quietly into the centre of the living room. Harry and Ginny took the front, whilst Ron and Hermione remained at the back.

"Where should we check first?" whispered Ginny to Harry, glancing around the living room. One doorway was open, exposing what Ginny believed to be the front hallway and stairs. There was another door closest to them, but she had no idea what could be in there. When she had arrived with her father to retrieve Luna, they had literally grabbed her and ran, then returned to put an unconscious Barty Crouch back in his bedroom. She hadn't really been paying attention to the interior.

As she spoke, a sudden familiar giggle sounded from behind the closed door, causing all four of them to freeze on the spot.

"Over there," Harry whispered, pointing at the door. They all crept over, positioning themselves stealthily behind it. "After three, we jump in and stupefy him at once. Agreed?"

"Agreed," chorused Ron and Ginny, whilst Hermione nodded.

"One..." Harry raised his wand, and the others copied. "Two...THREE!"

They burst through the door, into what appeared to be a kitchen, and pointed their wands towards the sound of voices. However, they quickly lowered their hands, utter shocked washing across their faces simultaneously. Everyone remained silent, until Ginny took the plunge, being the first to step forward. "Luna...what are you doing?"

Luna was sitting on the counter-top, wearing nothing but a very long black t-shirt and her underwear. Her blonde hair was tumbling down her back, long and uncombed. There was the shadow of a smile on her face, but her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and her eyes sparkled over at her friends.

Barty was standing in front of her, only wearing his trousers, with his hands on her upper thighs. His grip had tightened considerably when the foursome had burst into the kitchen, and he pulled her closer, so that she was thrust against his chest. He glared over at the intruders angrily, and removed one hand from Luna to brandish his wand from the back pocket of his jeans, and point it at them.

Ginny however, wasn't looking at Barty. Her eyes were focused on Luna, who was gazing back silently, as still as though she had just been stunned. After a few silent moments, she began to push back from Barty, and grasp the hem of her shirt with her fingers, trying to pull it down to cover a little more of her exposed thighs.

"Luna, what are you _doing?_ " repeated Ginny, her voice dangerously low. "What has he done to you?"

"He hasn't done anything," replied Luna quietly.

Ginny made a move to step closer, but Barty flicked his wand hand threateningly in her direction. "Stay where you are," he hissed, his maniacal eyes flickering between the four of them. "What are you doing here?"

"We're here to take Luna back home," Harry stated through gritted teeth, glaring at Barty through his round spectacles.

"Yeah, so hand her over," continued Ron, trying to sound confident, though his voice wavered a little and his wand hand trembled.

"Potter and his little army come bursting into _my_ house and try to tell me what to do..." murmured Barty, focusing dangerously on Harry.

"Barty," murmured Luna pleadingly. She had snapped her gaze back to the man in front of her, and her hands reached down to comfortingly grasp the one that he still held onto her with.

"This _is_ Luna's home now," Barty told them. "She stays. So leave."

"Stop answering for her!" shrieked Ginny, suddenly very much resembling her mother. "Luna?!"

Luna appeared unable to make eye contact with any of her friends, and instead hung her head forward, so that her long tresses of hair covered her face. "I'm sorry, Ginny."

A deafening silence resonated around them, and Harry reached forward to take the hand of Ginny comfortingly, but she snatched it away. She was staring at Barty, and becoming increasingly aware of the distinct look of smugness on his face. "How long?" she asked suddenly. "How long has this been going on for?"

"None of your business," snapped Barty, as Luna opened her mouth to reply. "Now get out of my house!"

At that moment, Ginny noticed that Barty's hands were beginning to shake, causing his wand to shudder. A jet of sporadic sparks shot out of the tip of his wand, and Harry and Ron ducked, allowing a single jet of red light to singe a strand of Hermione's hair.

His face was swelling with anger, and he seemed ambivalent as he dropped his wand, allowing it to clatter to the floor and vanish under the kitchen table, and his hand clenched into a fist. His brown eyes were glowing with a menace that Ginny couldn't even begin to comprehend, and even in her own flare of anger, she felt fear bubbling in her chest.

Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief as Luna leaned forward, flattening her palms against his stubbly face and pressing her mouth to his ear. She whispered something inaudiable, and to everyone's surprise, his arms slackened by his sides, and his eyes turned away from the group of intruders.

Luna's second move was to pull her wand from behind her—which everyone noticed with raised eyebrows that she had been allowed to keep—and waved it wordlessly in the direction of a small cauldron on top of the kitchen table. The ladle inside it stirred itself, and then rose, pouring a substantial amount of ocean coloured liquid into a nearby glass. The cup soared over into Luna's outstretched hand, and she handed it to Barty, who raised it to his lips and downed it in one.

Almost immediately, his face melted into a softer, unrecognisable expression. He stared blankly at Luna, as he placed the cup down gently beside her.

"Do you see why I need to be here, Ginny?" Luna asked in a small voice, her hands resting on his shoulders. "You don't understand. I _know_ you don't understand. But I have to...I _want_ to stay here. I can help him."

Ginny, who had until this moment been staring at the pair of them in silence, suddenly folded her arms and shook her head. "Do you _remember_ who this person is? What he's done?"

"I'm not that person anymore," Barty interjected, his voice smooth and calm.

"He isn't _well_ , Ginny. But he's getting better. That's why he has to have the potion."

"Why are you defending him?" asked Harry. "Stop being so ridiculous, Luna. We know you've always been a little...eccentric...but even this is a little too far. He's twice your age!"

"That's irrelevant," murmured Luna. "I'm sorry. I'm staying here."

"Enough of this! You don't have to fix him!" snarled Ginny, and she flourished her wand suddenly, aiming what her friends and brother knew to be her signature Bat-Bogey Hex in Barty's direction. However, Luna sprang forwards quickly, jumping down from the counter-top and jabbing her wand in front of her.

" _Protego!"_ she yelled, and a strong shield charm burst from the tip of her wand and formed a sheer bubble around her and Barty. The Bat-Bogey Hex bounced off the shield, and Hermione wordlessly shot a spell at it before it could backfire onto anyone else, and it exploded in the air. "Ginny!" Luna gasped, keeping her wand raised and the shield charm effective.

"We can do this all day!" snapped Hermione, before Ginny could say anything else. "But it isn't going to change anything," she turned back to Luna, who was watching Hermione carefully. "Luna, is this what you really want?" Luna nodded. "Well, you know that we'll all be here for you. Whenever you need anything, or if something happens...or if you decide to leave."

"She won't leave," murmured Barty, flashing a teeth-bearing grin at Hermione.

"I won't leave," repeated Luna, looking up at Barty as she spoke.

Ginny spun on her heel and flounced away, struggling to hide the tears that were brimming in her brown eyes. The four of them headed back into the fireplace, and quickly took the Floo Network back to the Burrow.

oOo

Mrs Weasley was shouting about risking lives and creating unnecessary trouble and worry when they arrived back at the Burrow. However, Ginny ignored her mother completely, storming straight through the living room past her, and charging up the stairs to her bedroom. Harry made to follow her, but Hermione stopped him, shaking her head. Instead, she was the one to follow Ginny up the stairs quietly. When she arrived in her bedroom, she found that Ginny had thrown herself dramatically onto the bed, and was sobbing loudly into the pillow.

Hermione sat beside her friend, and soothingly rubbed her back. "Ginny," she murmured, and Ginny's sobs quietened. "She's made up her mind. You need to let her go. She's a grown woman who can make her own decisions. It's not like we're losing her forever—I'm sure we'll see her again soon."

"She's making the _wrong_ decision!" Ginny cried, her voice thick. "She's my _best friend_ —I can't just let her do this. You've seen yourself how weird she's been acting. Even just then—she was _obviously_ terrified—"

"—I don't think she was, Gin," interjected Hermione. "I really don't."

Ginny took a few moments to catch her breath, and then rolled onto her back, looking up at Hermione with puffy, tear-logged eyes. "Do you really think she wants to be there?"

"She wants to help him," Hermione replied. "She has that inhuman ability to just see past all of the bad stuff. Clearly she sees something in Barty that we don't, and she wants to bring out the best in him."

"How can she be like that?" whispered Ginny. "How can she forget and forgive everything bad that he ever did?"

"It's just who Luna is. You know that," Hermione paused, and leaned back on her hands. "Anyway, I think we should leave her alone for a while. We could make things more problematic by trying to burst in all the time. As much as I want her to be somewhere safe too, we can't force her to do something she doesn't want to. Also, I know you saw it too."

"Saw what?"

"The way they looked at each other. Like they couldn't see or think about anything or anyone else," Hermione looked at her fingers. "They couldn't take their eyes off each other."


	22. Trust Issues

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

Another week had passed in the Crouch Manor, and that meant that it was time for Barty to return to work once again.

He and Luna had not spent the week doing anything other than lie in bed or on the sofa, barely clothed, moving only to get food or use the bathroom. They showered together, slept together, walked around the house together. Luna had dubbed their week a Honeymoon Period, and Barty hoped that it wouldn't end.

They both often wondered about the strange magnetic force that was pulling them towards each other, but even stranger, neither of them really seemed to care anymore. Luna often wondered if Barty was spiking her coffee with Amortentia, but she was sure that he probably wondered the same thing. They had given up trying to explain the attraction for now. For the moment, things were content, and they were happy to remain that way.

Barty's mood was influenced greatly by the potion and medication that he was forced to take everyday. There were still instances and episodes where the glimmer of his erratic self would shine through, and Luna would have to assist in calming him down, but it was manageable. Whereas before, she had been scared and nervous around Barty's unstable personality, now she was much more adept at controlling herself around his outbursts. Now that there was an explanation for his behaviour, he didn't frighten her anymore.

As Barty lay in bed beside Luna, combing his fingers through her long blonde hair, he sighed sadly. He wasn't ready to return to work. He was much too used to this arrangement, and he didn't want to have to leave the comforts of this house. Part of him wanted to take her wand again, lock her in the house and threaten to attack her father if she so much as dared to leave or make contact with anyone, but he couldn't bear the thought of acting so coldly towards her.

The new, more rational side of him was growing with each passing day, the more and more time he spent around Luna and continued to take his potions regularly. This rational part didn't want Luna to be afraid of him again. He wanted to continue watching Luna happy, laughing and smiling because _he_ was making her happy. It had taken some time for Barty to slowly realise the strong feelings that he was developing for Luna; feelings he hadn't even been aware that he was capable of.

Her eyes were closed, but a small smile ghosted across her lips. Barty cupped his hand around her cheek, and he realised just how much happier he was seeing her smile. A sudden image flickered through his mind—her reaction of when he had slapped her—something that seemed so long ago. She had glared up at him with round, shimmering eyes, glazed over with pure hatred. Barty had thought that he had desired to see her brimming with fearful emotion, but he had been so very wrong. Nothing was better than seeing her smile.

His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he remembered the way she had looked at him when he'd hit her. He never wanted her to look at him like that again, ever.

In one quick movement, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him so that her face was pressed against his chest, and buried his face in the top of her hair. Luna stifled a yawn, and began to stretch out her limbs, breaking away from him slowly. Barty sat up slowly, and looked over at the clock on the wall, which read seven o' clock. Luna blinked sleepily up at him, burrowing her cheek into the pillow.

"You have to go back to work today, right?" Barty nodded, rubbing his tired eyes with his knuckles. "Barty, I wanted to talk to you about something."

A lance of fear rippled through Barty, as though he'd been slashed with a white-hot whip. "Over breakfast," he told her quietly, before jumping out of the bed and beginning to search around for his work robes, which Luna had made sure were washed earlier in the week. When he found them, he climbed into them quickly, leaving the top few buttons undone. Without looking at her, he dashed out of the bedroom, heading downstairs.

Worry was searing through him, and he knew that there was the potential that he could react negatively to whatever it was that Luna wanted to speak to him about. As soon as he reached the kitchen, he seized the ladle inside the cauldron on the kitchen table, and poured himself an extra-large measurement of his Calming Draught, and downed it in one fluid motion.

The uncomfortable knot of tension that had been forming in his stomach slackened immediately, and Barty leaned back against the kitchen counter, briefly enjoying the cool, blissful feeling that spread through his body slowly.

After a few moments, he pulled his wand from his pocket and began to flick it at random points around the kitchen. Eggs and milk flew out of the refrigerator, and flour and sugar soared from the open door of the pantry. The house had been fitted with a stove that could be lit to cook from, but Barty could never understand the Muggle technology, so he unearthed a large cooking cauldron and lit the underside of it, before filling it with boiling water. He summoned a pan from a high shelf, and hovered it above the cauldron as the ingredients soared into the pan and began whisking together quickly, slopping over the sides and onto the floor.

Luna wandered down the stairs into the kitchen shortly after, looking clean-faced and fresh and smelling of lavender soap. Her hair was pulled back and twirled on top of her head, not a single strand of hair curling down her slim neck. A strange headband was wound around her head, made from a thorny stalk and garnished with mistletoe. Best of all, Barty noticed with a satisfied smirk, that she was wearing the same periwinkle blue robes (all previous tears and rips magically fixed, of course) that he had been wearing on the day he found her at the Ministry.

She sat down at the table, and a mug and a jug lid across towards her, preparing her coffee. As she took a sip, Barty walked towards her, a frying pan hovering behind him. He placed a plate and a fork down in front of her, and tipped the pan over it, letting a charred, blackened pancake slide onto the plate.

Luna hesitated, but reached out with her fork to politely take a bite. However before she could, Barty pushed her hand away and flicked his wand, causing the pancake to instantly vanish. "I never really got a chance to be good at cooking," he muttered, sending the plate towards the sink. "Winky used to do things like that."

Luna smiled brightly. "Perhaps you could improve your cooking if you used the stove instead of that medieval old cauldron," she joked.

"I refuse to learn how to use that thing," he replied, sliding into the chair beside her. He reached out and ran the palm of his hand along the back of her neck, stroking the hair that was pulled up neatly. "I like it so much better when you have your hair down," he purred, trying to slide his fingers under the tangle of knots that Luna had created to keep her hair tied up. She dodged his hand cleverly, and pulled his hands down to the table.

"I need to talk to you," she told him again, gently stroking her fingers across his knuckles. "It's important."

"Go ahead."

Luna took a deep breath, and cleared her throat. "Okay," she started. "I don't want to go back to just sitting in this house and waiting for you to come back home. No, I _can't_ go back to doing that. I'm not saying I want to leave," she assured him, as his face began to contort. "I'm not saying that. I just...I think I should be able to go to work. I've been thinking, and seeing as my father is out of the country, I think I should go and work on _The Quibbler_ in his absence."

"The... _what?_ " Barty cocked an eyebrow, eyeing her steadily.

" _The Quibbler_. It's a magazine that my father edits and publishes from our-from _his_ home back in Ottery St. Catchpole. Seeing as the magazine isn't running at the moment, I think it'll be really good for me to go and start it back up again."

"Can't you get a job at the Ministry like everyone else? I'm sure if I ask, Stamford could find you a job in the Administration Department."

"Barty," Luna clutched his hands and leaned forward, looking directly into his fearful brown eyes. "There's nothing at the Ministry for me. You don't need me to be around you twenty-four-seven, or locked in the house. You can _trust_ me. I promise I'm not going to leave you."

Barty stood up so quickly that his chair scraped across the tiled floor, and he snatched his hands away, glaring down at her. "Don't..." he started in a calm voice, despite the slightly defensive look that was evident on his face. "Don't lie to me. Don't tell me this if you don't mean it."

Luna stood up and placed both of her hands on his face, staring up at him. "I know how you're feeling," she assured him. "I promise I do. I know you don't want to let me out of your sight because you think I'm going to run away. I'll be back long before you get home, every day, _I promise._ I could've left with my friends when they came, but I didn't. I stayed with you. I _chose_ to stay with you. Please trust me—"

Barty leaned down before she could continue and captured her lips in a swift kiss, placing his hands on her waist. He pulled away shortly after, pressing his forehead against hers and breathing slightly heavily.

"Don't make me regret this," he breathed, his brown eyes burning into hers with a familiar menace. "If you don't come home, I will tear every man, woman and Weasley apart until I get you back. Are you listening to me, Luna?"

Luna nodded, staring confidently back into his gaze.

"Then go," he replied, pulling away from her. "Go back to your old home and write your little magazine."

Luna released a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Barty."

They both walked into the living room, preparing to go their separate ways. Luna stepped in the middle of the room, and Barty climbed into the fireplace. They both nodded each other and bade their goodbyes before vanishing—Luna by turning on the spot and being sucked into thin air, and Barty in a plume of green smoke.

oOo

Barty paid little attention to Stamford when he entered the Administration Department after another week off, and he was happy to learn that Stamford seemed a little too wrapped up in his own work, simply nodding at him in greeting.

The last thing he wanted to deal with was Stamford's constant stream of chatter and high spirits when he was already so irritated with having to _come_ into work, and not being able to remain at home with Luna, where he so desperately wanted to be.

He did notice, however, that Stamford had left a whole new box of records on his desk. He groaned inwardly. For weeks, he had been hoping that Stamford would give him something new to do, instead of constantly going through these records and organising them into Ministry approved piles, for reasons Barty still didn't understand why. As he was about to question Stamford, his boss appeared at his desk behind him, grinning apologetically.

"Sorry, Crouch," he told him, beginning to open the cardboard lid of the box. "I know it's the last thing you want to see after a week off work, but it's been sat there since you left..."

"What do I have to do?" grumbled Barty.

"Well, it's an old box that got brought down from the International Affairs office last Tuesday," Stamford continued. "This is the records for every witch and wizard who emigrated to countries out of Europe, and any children they had out there. It only dates up until nineteen-eighty though, as the Admin Department started tracking emigrations after that point. Just sort them by date and country, and that should do. Shouldn't take you too long—we didn't have many emigrations before the nineteen-eighties."

Of course they didn't. Barty knew from personal experience that many witches and wizards had left once Voldemort began to rise in power, for fear of falling prey to his dark magic.

So, with a sigh, Barty sat down at his desk, and began fishing through the stack of paperwork. For several hours, he flicked idly through the records, arranging them first into piles of countries they emigrated to, and then by date. He rarely paid attention to anything that he was sifting through, looking only at the information that he needed. However, when a record with no date of emigration fell into his hands, he was forced to read a little more of the record.

Barty raised his eyebrows when he realised that he recognised the name. It was a woman named Cordelia Greengrass, who had emigrated to Australia in nineteen-eighty, but there was no date and month, just the year. Attached to the emigration record was a signed birth certificate for a child, named Aurora Greengrass, but no birth date at all had been provided.

Barty placed the record down tenderly on the desk, and leaned back on his chair. It had been such a lifetime ago that he had been in Hogwarts, he had almost forgotten that his school years had even existed. Cordelia had been a close friend of his during school, and it surprised him immensely to realise that he had entirely _forgotten_ this person.

Throwing the record aside, he moved onto the next one. Sure, he might have been momentarily distracted—but he had other records to sort through.

oOo

A cool, wintry breeze was blowing through the air when Luna arrived on her old doorstep in Ottery St. Catchpole. She beamed up at her childhood home, feeling wonderful.

The day was going marvellously so far, and she hadn't even entered the house yet. She had managed to convince Barty that everything would be fine, and hopefully he had gone to work in a good mood. She had secured herself a job and therefore something to spend her week doing. Luna had always enjoyed helping her father develop articles for _The Quibbler_ , and she couldn't wait to get her creative head into some writing.

With a wide smile, she headed up the steps and entered the house with an unlocking charm, before walking inside.

Even the untidy stack of letters on the table by the window couldn't faze Luna's great mood. The pile of letters had spilled onto the floor; clearly the owls that had been delivering the letters through the window had grown tired of attempting to pile the letters on top of each other, and had resorted to just releasing whatever they were holding upon entering.

Luna kicked off her shoes and sat by the table, tearing a few letters open and skim-reading. They were mainly all the same or similar content—avid _Quibbler_ readers expressing their anger at their being no updates from their favourite magazine. Eventually, Luna came to an entirely different letter, addressed from a man Luna knew to be a friend of her father's.

The letter stated that as Xenophilius's closest friend, he was taking matters regarding _The Quibbler_ into his own hands, and a temporary editor would be being sent over to work on the magazine until Xenophilius returned. A date of which the temporary editor would be arriving was enlisted, and Luna noticed with a quirk of her eyebrows that it was today's date.

At that precise moment, there was a knock on the door. Luna dropped the letter she had been reading to the floor, and walked over to the door, pulling it open.

On the step stood a lanky boy, with lazy, heavily lidded eyes and dark blonde hair, which was a little too long and hung scruffily in his eyes. He brushed his fringe aside when she opened the door, and looked up at her. Luna noticed idly that his eyes were a very similar shade of silver to hers.

"Can I help you?" she blinked at him, though she was already fairly sure why he was here.

"Oh...I wasn't expecting anyone to be in."

"Why did you knock, then?"

"Just a precaution," the boy grinned, and stuck out his hand, which Luna eyed, but didn't shake. He dropped it quickly, his smile becoming a little strained. "Luna, right?"

Luna raised his eyebrows. Now that he had said her name, she realised that she recognised him vaguely. He had gone to Hogwarts too, and was in Ravenclaw - though he hadn't been in her year group. "I'm sorry. I don't remember your name."

"I was in the year above you. Rolf—Rolf Scamander." Rolf retrieved a piece of parchment from his pocket, and held it towards Luna. "I don't know if you got my father's letter, but I've been appointed as the temporary _Quibbler_ editor until Xenophilius Lovegood gets back."

Luna stared blankly at Rolf, but stepped back. "I supposed you should come in," she murmured quietly. Rolf grinned at her again, and crossed past her, wandering straight into the house.

Little did Luna know, she was already letting him straight into her life.


	23. Work Related Dramas

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

Luna placed a chipped, china cup filled with tea in front of Rolf, and sat down opposite him, watching him intently. She was struggling with how she should break the news to him, but she knew it was better to just get it out there, rather than leading him on.

"Listen, Rolf," she started, as he sipped his tea. "You don't need to work here, now. So, that letter your father sent is kind of redundant."

"Surely you could use some help?" Rolf replied, his face splitting into a grin.

"Daddy never needed help."

"Well, Xeno had worked on _The Quibbler_ for years. Anyway, I've had loads of experience writing since I left Hogwarts. I wrote several essays for the _Daily Prophet_ on some of the excursions my grandfather went on. I'm sure you've heard of my grandfather—Newt Scamander, he wrote _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ "

"Yes, I know him," Luna sighed and rested her chin on her hands. "Rolf, I'm sure you're an exceptional writer, but I really don't need any help," not to mention he would be putting himself in unnecessary danger if Barty found out, Luna added as an afterthought. She didn't even need to speak to Barty to know that he would be extremely unhappy with Rolf working alongside her.

Rolf sighed, and gulped down the remainder of his tea, before placing the empty cup down on the table gently. He leaned back in his chair, looking extremely depressed and rejected. A ripple of pity coursed through Luna's heartstrings.

"I'm sorry, Rolf."

"It's doesn't matter," replied Rolf airily, averting his gaze to the window. "I mean, it is technically _your_ magazine, right? I can't just muscle in here and take over...even though neither you or your father have paid it any attention for so long, leaving all of your readers in suspense for _weeks_."

Luna stared at him blandly, her eyebrows raised. He was acting extremely childish and a tad over-dramatic, but she wasn't going to rise to it. "Rolf, why do you want to work for _the Quibbler_ so bad anyway?"

Rolf continued to glare out of the window, but his cheeks tinged a distinct shade of red. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, apparently needing a few moments to contemplate an answer, before finally speaking.

"Okay. I'm desperate for work," he replied finally, turning his gaze back to Luna. "No one will hire me! I did terribly in my OWLs; I didn't pass a single NEWT except for Care of Magical Creatures, and now no one is interested in having me work for them at all. I'm an appalling Ravenclaw," Rolf looked utterly miserable as he sank back in his chair. "Not even any of the lowly Ministry offices will give me an interview," he paused, then added bitterly: "though I hear they gave _Barty Crouch Junior_ a job in the Administration Registration Department."

"Well, Barty did get twelve Outstanding OWLs," Luna responded nonchalantly.

Rolf raised an eyebrow, clearly a little confused about the way she defended him, but he decided not to pursue it. "Please, Luna. Help an old schoolmate out."

Luna groaned inwardly, contemplating what to do. She _knew_ Barty wouldn't like this. But he was beginning to change and manage his emotions better, so perhaps he would be able to deal with it in the long run. It wasn't like anything was ever going to happen with Rolf, and he _was_ an old schoolmate, even though Luna could hardly remember him.

There was no way she couldn't _not_ help him. He was in need of assistance, and she was in a position to help him out.

"Okay," she said finally, though she regretted it the moment the word left her mouth. "You can help me out—but just until I get on my feet with _the Quibbler_. This isn't a permanent position. Like I said—Daddy never needed any help, so I'm positive that I won't."

Rolf nodded, looking delighted. "Thanks a lot, Luna. You won't regret this."

Luna was positive that she absolutely would regret it, but she didn't let on to Rolf. Instead, she stood up from the table, beckoning for Rolf to follow her.

She led him into the cellar, which Xenophilius had converted into a large, spacious printing room, perfect for putting together editorials of _the Quibbler_. There was a big desk with two chairs, though Luna noticed in dismay that the desk was a terrible mess. There were arrays of notes strewn untidily across the desk, and various older copies of _the Quibbler_.

"Well, we'll have to sort through all of this before write anything new," Luna told Rolf. "I don't know what's been used and what hasn't."

Rolf nodded, sitting down at Xenophilius's desk. Slowly, the pair of them began to sift through the stack of notes in silence.

oOo

Barty was sitting in the _Ministry Munchies_ café on his lunchbreak. He was trying to concentrate on what Luna could be up to, but he couldn't stop thinking about Cordelia Greengrass.

Cordelia had been the only other Slytherin besides Regulus Black who had ever actually paid Barty any attention, let alone choose to become friends with him. He found it difficult to make friends upon being sorted into Slytherin, as his father was putting away most of the parents of his Slytherin dormmates at that time.

But Cordelia was different. She too didn't get on with the girls in her year group, so she, Barty and Regulus had settled for just concentrating on being friends with each other, instead of trying to befriend the other Slytherins.

She was a freckle-faced girl, with thin, auburn hair, and she always did her best to make him laugh. She and Regulus both played on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and although Barty enjoyed watching the match, he never got a chance to be part of the team. He did his part to his friends by helping them out with homework as much as he could, being as brainy as he was.

Their friendship had been breached when they left Hogwarts and the pair of them went for a celebratory drink in Hogsmeade. After several shots of Firewhisky, the lines of their friendship had been blurred, and Barty couldn't remember much after that. However, he knew that Cordelia had followed him home, and knew what had happened in his bed that night.

After that, Cordelia had tried to pursue some kind of relationship with Barty, but he simply wasn't interested. He had bigger fish to fry at that point in his life—namely, following Regulus to the coven of Death Eaters that they had heard so much about. He never heard anything else about Cordelia, and had assumed that she had just continued her life as any other witch would.

As he sipped his pumpkin juice lazily, Barty wondered what had caused her to flee to Australia. Obviously it was the fear of Voldemort, but she was Pureblood and a Slytherin—she didn't really have anything to fear. Who had she married, and what was her child like?

It didn't matter. Barty scrunched up the now empty juice carton, and left it on the table before standing up from his seat. That had been an entirely different part of his life.

oOo

The hours in Otter St. Catchpole went on fairly quickly, and Luna and Rolf were continuing to work in silence. Luna was extremely sucked into her work, almost entirely forgetting about everything and everyone around her.

Her father had compiled several notes on a very interesting topic regarding the myths of day-walking vampires, and after scouring the stack of old _Quibbler_ articles, Luna was sure he hadn't yet written about this phenomenon. She was padding out the notes with her own theories and thoughts on the subject, trying to remain focused on her work—but it was becoming more and more difficult as time went on.

The only thing distracting her peaceful work atmosphere was Rolf, and the way he kept constantly shooting long glances at her.

"So," he spoke, after several hours. Luna restrained a sigh, and looked at him questioningly. "You jumped to defend that Crouch guy pretty quickly earlier."

"Did I?" responded Luna in a dreamy voice. She was trying to keep her thoughts on the day-walking vampires, and whether she could contact her father to get anymore information on the subject.

"Yes. About him getting twelve Outstanding OWLs, or something."

"Well, it's true." Luna continued to scribble some notes on a piece of parchment that was already crammed with tiny, squashed-together writing.

"How would you even know that?" Rolf was leaning on the back two legs of his chair, his arms above his head. "You know there are rumours, don't you?"

"What rumours?" Luna was beginning to feel slightly agitated. She didn't agree to take Rolf on for them to engage in this pointless conversation; they had a job to do.

"That you're now _living_ with that maniac, and you're having some kind of weird relationship with him."

Luna's quill froze, and she stared over at him with narrow, glittering eyes. "Who on earth did you hear that from?"

Rolf shrugged. "Just something my dad heard while he was on business at the Ministry. Apparently it's pretty common knowledge. Why, is it true?"

Luna pursed her lips carefully before speaking. She wasn't sure what either either her or Barty wanted people to know of their status yet—it wasn't something that she'd thought about. As far as she was concerned, the people who needed to know knew about their arrangement, and that was all that mattered.

However, people were bound to talk, especially as so much had happened between them now. The Weasleys had been looking for Luna multiple times now, so it was likely that they were unintentionally releasing information to employees there.

Instead of trying to defend the rumours, Luna simply attempted to appear disinterested. "Perhaps you should focus on your work, instead of thinking about silly rumours, Rolf."

Rolf blinked at her dejectedly, but returned his seat back on all four legs, and recommenced his work.

After a few more hours of steady, quiet work, Luna shot a glance over at the clock on the wall. She noticed, with a slight leap of her heart, that it was three-thirty. She quickly piled her notes together neatly and screwed the cap back on her ink jar, and stood up, smoothing down her robes.

"Are you leaving?" Rolf asked, looking up.

"Yes, I have to get back home."

Rolf lifted an eyebrow smartly. "But...isn't this your home?"

Luna tried to resist the urge to glare at him. She could see the cogs whirring in his brain, beginning to think about the rumours of her living with Barty once again. "Yes, but I don't live here anymore. I have my own place in London," she replied swiftly, before quickly changing the subject. If Rolf was going to be working here, he would need own key, especially as she would want to leave early every day. She quickly rushed up to her bedroom, digging in her bedside cabinet until she found a spare key for the house. After duplicating it magically, she darted back down to the printing room and pressed it into Rolf's hand.

"I'll usually want to leave by this time," Luna continued, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. "Please don't lose that key, and don't let anyone into the house. I know I don't live here anymore, but this is still my father's house."

Rolf nodded in response, and Luna waggled her fingers at him as she headed out of the door. However, just as she was reaching the top step of the cellar, Rolf called out to her.

"Luna, wait!"

She spun around. "Yes?"

"Do you...erm..." he scratched the back of his head, looking slightly sheepish. "Do you fancy going out for a drink sometime?"

Luna turned back towards the door, rolling her eyes when he couldn't see her face. "I'm afraid I can't, Rolf. That would be quite unprofessional."

oOo

Once she had apparated back to the Crouch Manor, Luna wandered into the kitchen, pulling her hair out of it's uncomfortable topknot as she walked. After taking off her travelling cloak and folding it neatly over a chair, she stretched her arms out sleepily. She had just short of half an hour before Barty would return from work, so that gave her more than enough time to be alone with her thoughts.

Briefly, she wondered about the Rolf situation. The logical thing to do would be to tell Barty straight away, but she didn't want this to ruin her work opportunity before it had even begun. If he found out, he was likely to prevent her from going back again—either that, or he would freak out and try to murder Rolf.

After a few moments of careful consideration, Luna made the decision not to tell Barty—at least not just yet. She promised herself inwardly that she would do, but telling him the moment he came home from a stressful day at work probably wasn't the wisest choice. She had to pick the right time.

So, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind, and decided to focus on what she could prepare for dinner.

The habit of cooking manually had become pretty difficult to break. As she lit the stove and prepared vegetables, she smiled to herself. She found cooking fairly satisfying, and once the finished product was complete, she felt a lot better about what she had done. The food seemed to taste better, after she'd put the effort in to actually make it, instead of using magic.

She was stirring a pot of stew over a low heat when she heard the distinctive sound of flames in the fireplace, and footsteps crashing through the living room. Barty burst into the kitchen, looking frighteningly wild. His hair was untidy and his eyes were wide and filled with an uncontrollable sense of madness.

Luna blinked at him, before offering him a small smile. "Hello, did you have a good-" she was cut off as Barty seemed to fly across the kitchen towards her, pushing her against the counter and crashing his mouth into hers. He kissed her forcibly, reaching into the pocket of her robes for her wand, and using it to prod the flames on the stove until they extinguished. He dropped the wand to the floor, and gripped her waist with his hands, his fingers digging possessively into her flesh.

She broke away from the kiss, gasping for breath. "Barty—"

"—no talking," he growled hungrily. He pulled her away from the counter and dragged her across the kitchen until her back touched the kitchen table, where he lifted her from the ground and laid her down across it's expanse. "Not yet." As Luna lay back on the kitchen table, she became aware that Barty was unfastening his trousers, but before she could comment, he was leaning across the table and kissing her passionately again.

oOo

An hour later, they were both eating dinner on the (recently wiped down) kitchen table. Apart from being slightly dishevelled, both of them had returned to the state they were in before Barty had arrived home. "So, did you have a good day at work?" Luna asked with a smile.

Barty smirked across the table at her, placing his knife and fork on his empty plate and pushing it away. "No, it was treacherous. I was sure that you weren't going to be here when I got back. So convinced, in fact, that I was originally planning on making a visit to your father's house before coming here."

A jolt of relief rushed through Luna. She was glad that he had decided against that option—if he had, he would've caught Luna in the process of working alongside Rolf, and that wouldn't have gone down well. "I promised that I'd come back."

"I know," Barty replied. "I'm glad I trusted you."

Luna continued to beam at him, and leaned back in her chair. At that precise moment, there was a sudden, high-pitched squawking noise, and a tennis-ball sized owl rocketed through the open kitchen window, and landed with a splash in the jug of pumpkin juice on the table.

Luna quickly fished the small owl out, recognising it immediately, whilst Barty eyed the creature reproachfully. "What is that? We don't have mail...Luna..."

"I haven't been writing to anyone," Luna told Barty, before he could accuse her. "You know I haven't. I've been with you all week." Luna pulled the sodden roll of parchment from the foot of Pig, and read it aloud.

" _Dear Luna,_

 _Mum said we're to invite you for dinner this Sunday. I'd really like it if you could come. We need to have a proper sit down and a chat. I guess I wasn't really as understanding as I could have been when we saw each other last week. I really hope the ball-and-chain lets you come._

 _Hopefully he takes that joke light-heartedly. I really want you and me to have a proper chat, so I can understand the situation a bit more._

 _All my love,_

 _Ginny."_

* * *

 **A.N:** Please guys, could you offer some reviews on these later chapters if you're still reading? Even a comment to say you're enjoying the story would really give me a confidence booster!


	24. Childhood Sweethearts

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

The following day saw Barty and Luna awake and ready fairly early, and both of them sitting in the living room. It was a room they rarely used, other than when Barty used the fireplace to travel to work, so Luna felt fairly uncomfortable as she perched daintily on the edge of a straight-backed, green-velvet armchair.

Since Barty had taken his potion and medication upon waking, they had been talking awkwardly about the subject of Sunday dinner at the Burrow. Whilst Barty had expressed that he didn't want to go, Luna had made a point of slightly pressuring him into re-evaluating his decision. After all—they had already made progress in the sense that he was allowing Luna to go to work now, and he had told her last night that he trusted that she would come back to him.

She didn't want to be locked away anymore; and she thought that Barty also wanted her not to be his prisoner.

"I won't say anything to my friends about our situation if you don't want them to be aware," Luna assured him after a long period of silence. The sentence came out as an out of context babble, but the situation she was referring to was their new and improved 'relationship', so to speak. Of course, the Weasleys would already have gathered that something was going on between Luna and Barty from what Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny had witnessed in the kitchen, but Luna still felt there were things that they were unaware of.

"What do you mean?" asked Barty, raising a dark eyebrow at her. He was fiddling with a hole in the knee of his denim jeans, causing the frayed edges to worsen.

"I mean..." Luna felt her teeth burrowing into her bottom lip as she searched for the right words. "They only know what they've seen and heard and...put together. I want to explain to them properly about what's going on with us. They are my friends, after all. I want them to understand."

Barty nodded slowly, his brown eyes averting back to the hole in his jeans. "You're right. I think people should know."

"You do?"

He shrugged in response. "News travels very fast...especially in places like the Ministry. Also, my department—the Admin department—do yearly Census reports; they like to know where everyone is living and with whom. I'm pretty sure one will be due very shortly, especially with the population influx since the Azkaban release."

"So..." Luna took a breath, and shot a glance over at Barty. "I'll go to the Burrow on Sunday?"

Barty rolled his eyes expressively, and tugged at the hole on his trousers so hard that it ripped wider, exposing his entire knee. "Yes, fine."

Luna smiled. "You're doing the right thing, Barty."

"It doesn't feel right," he grumbled, flicking bits of cotton onto the carpet.

"It will do eventually," she paused, pressing her lips together. "Especially now that you're getting better."

Barty looked over at her, his face emotionless for a moment—but she saw the shadow of a smile on his face. Not the smirk or leer that he usually wore—but almost a real, genuine smile.

Luna leaned back in the chair, feeling a little more relaxed. "So, what do I tell people? Are you..." Luna paused again, rolling the word around in her mouth. "My boyfriend?"

She regretted saying it as soon as the word passed her lips. It sounded ridiculous; childish—and definitely didn't seem to suit the strange, underdeveloped relationship that they were harbouring.

Barty laughed half-heartedly. "Luna, I'm a little old to be your boyfriend," he replied. He stood up, and pointed his wand at the rip in his jeans silently, and the denim began to fuse together neatly. "We...live together." He reached for his brown overcoat, which was on the back of the couch he had been occupying, and headed over to the fireplace, whilst Luna looked him up and down.

"Aren't you dressed a little casually, Barty?" she asked him carefully, being sure to tread softly with her words. He seemed in a good mood, but she never knew what could set him off. He had a black t-shirt on over his newly fixed jeans, and was beginning to pull a belt through the loops on his jeans. It was definitely a change from the smart work robes he normally wore.

"Dress Down Friday," replied Barty airily, clipping the belt buckle. "Stamford initiated it in our department last week."

Luna smiled bemusedly, but didn't pursue the matter.

"Remember, we _live_ together," Barty continued, as he stepped into the fireplace, seizing a handful of the Floo Powder on his way.

"We have living arrangements," Luna emphasised, nodding.

Barty smirked. "We have sexual arrangements," he tittered humorously, and threw the Floo Powder down to his feet, vanishing in green flames before Luna could reply.

She smiled softly at the space where he had just been, which now held nothing but a few chalky flakes of ash, floating down to the foot of the fireplace. She and Barty hadn't known each other for too long, and the first part of her entrapment with him had filled her with nothing but irritation, detest and even fear for the man. But that seemed like a lifetime ago—now, she couldn't help but feel delighted at seeing him act normal.

He _was_ acting normal. Yes, he was a little neurotic still, overly possessive, and he had to take a potion and see a Mind Healer to keep his personality in check. But he getting better. He was just a normal bloke, waking up on a normal day and heading out for his normal job at the Ministry.

Ex-Death Eater or not, Luna couldn't help but be so happy that she was playing a part in hand-crafting the shards of a broken man into a new person.

oOo

Stamford looked extremely surprised when Barty all but flew into the office in a blur of a brown coat, throwing the garment onto the back of his chair and then sliding onto the seat that resided in front of Stamford's desk, leaning back on it lazily. Stamford blinked blearily at his employee. Normally, it was he who was much more awake and active at this time on a morning, while Barty mooched into the office and slumped over his desk for the entire day.

"Barty?" Stamford glanced over at the calendar on the wall, which sported an image of the singer Celestina Warbeck in a black velvet dress, which shimmered like diamonds when she moved around the frame. "Shouldn't you be with Dawlish? It is Friday—the day of your meeting, correct?"

"Yes, but I just needed to tell you something first, before the weekend," Barty flourished his wand towards the filing cabinet beside his desk, and the bottom draw opened, allowing a pale blue sheet of paper to soar out, and land neatly in front of Stamford, who glanced down at it.

"A Census report? Barty, we don't re-evaluate the Census until May of next year."

"Unless there are any changes," Barty corrected, prodding his thumb to the disclaimer at the top of the page. Stamford looked up at him questioningly. "You remember that whole Unbreakable Vow arrangement with my grandfather before I was born?"

Stamford dropped the quill he had been holding, and began to rub the bridge of his nose. "Oh, how could I forget," he replied wearily. "Barty, please don't tell me you _kidnapped_ the poor girl—there's been a lot of rumours floating around on that subject, I've been turning a deaf ear to them, but..." Stamford's voice tailed off.

"What rumours?" Barty demanded initially, but he shrugged the thought off. "Whatever. Of course I haven't _kidnapped_ her, how could you think that of me?"

Stamford shot him a meaningful look, which Barty chose to ignore.

"Well, she didn't want to come—not at first, anyway. But we managed to come to some arrangement. We live together, now."

Stamford released a sigh of relief, and picked up the quill again, beginning to make some notes on the form. "So...Luna...Lovegood...is living with you now," he commented as he wrote.

"That's correct."

"Might I ask..." Stamford started, pausing his quill. "What is the situation? Ah—the _relationship_ between the pair of you?"

A flash of memories flickered before Barty's eyes; his hands undressing her out of those pretty blue robes, and pushing her along the kitchen table before making desperate love to her, then kissing her in the dark until they fell asleep.

They still hadn't completely established what their relationship was yet.

"We're just living together," Barty murmured, still quite caught up in his memories.

"Strictly...platonic..." muttered Stamford, his quill wobbling across the page. "I must say Barty—thank _Merlin_ for that! I mean, there must be what—about seventeen years between the pair of you?"

"I've seen wider age gaps," Barty dismissed. "Is that all the information that the Census requires?"

"Yes, all updated," Stamford shook the page so that the ink dried quicker, and then folded it up neatly. "If you don't mind my asking, Barty—as you are living with Ms Lovegood—do you know the situation with old Xeno? Is he back from his travels, yet? The _Quibbler's_ readers have been raging over his absence; actually writing in to the _Daily Prophet_ for answers, if you can believe that!" Stamford chuckled.

"I don't know about him, but Luna has taken over as the editor for the _Quibbler_ now."

"Ah, I see. There was hearsay in the cafeteria about someone being sent over to act as the editor temporarily."

Barty shrugged. "Well, I'll be off then," he replied, climbing up from his seat. He reached over for the form. "I'll put that in the filing cabinet." Before leaving his desk, Barty raised an eyebrow down at Stamford.

He didn't look his usual cheery self. He was red-faced, there were bags under his eyes, and his dress-down clothes looked bedraggled. As Barty had stood up, his boss had retrieved the parchment he was writing on, beginning to study it again.

"You don't look so great, Stamford." Barty stated blandly.

"Oh, it's nothing, Crouch. I've been up all night dealing with an emigrant from Australia moving into the country. The poor girl doesn't really have much to come back to, but it doesn't seem as though she has anything back there, either. I'm trying to get her into Hogwarts for a year, as she missed quite a lot of school, but I don't think old McGonagall's going to shift her views. They're still so busy dealing with the problems from...well, you know."

Barty kept his face stoic, the way he often did when anyone mentioned anything to do with his old master, and then wandered over to his filing cabinet absently, putting the completed Census form away. "Well, see you Monday."

As Barty left the office, Stamford continued to work on the paperwork regarding the Australian emigrant—a girl who, unbeknownst to Barty, was named Aurora Greengrass.

oOo

After another hard day of work at the _Quibbler_ , Luna was bidding goodbye to her new co-worker, Rolf, and preparing to leave the house so that she could apparate.

Luna had been quite impressed with how he had worked today. He clearly showed a good knowledge of the oddities that Luna and her father had been interested in studying, something which he often referenced to his grandfather's book. Luna found herself becoming more and more interested in the things he had to say, especially when some of the subjects were of use to an article.

However, even though she was beginning to tolerate his company, there were still a few things about him that were making her uncomfortable. On three occasions just in that day, he had made random hints and attempts at inviting Luna out.

The first had been a flyaway comment about taking a half day, as it was Friday, and heading out for some lunch together. Luna had laughed politely, assuming his suggestion to be a joke. A little while later, he had brought up the subject of a popular wizarding band, the Weird Sisters, and how he had a spare ticket for their Christmas Eve concert in London, and would she like to come? This time, Luna had given him a vacant look, telling him that Christmas would be far too much of a personal time to be going out with co-workers.

"But we will need to have a work Christmas party," Rolf had told her cheekily, his cheeks tingeing red. "Even if it's just a bottle of Elderflower in front of your fireplace."

Once again, Luna had forced a quiet laugh, and continued her work.

The final time, however, Luna had decided to be nothing but straight with Rolf. It seemed that none of her attempts to rebuff his advances were working—he was still confidently going about trying to take her out. It was about half an hour before Luna was due to leave, and she was putting away her papers when he spoke. "It's Friday night—what do you say we go for that drink that you skipped out on yesterday?"

It had taken everything within Luna to not just walk out of the printing room. She hadn't 'skipped' out on him; she had told him very clearly that it would be unprofessional. Trying to maintain her airy exterior, she repeated what she had said the day before, and continued to sit quietly at her desk. However, for that last half an hour, she couldn't stop thinking about Rolf's consistent try-hard behaviour.

Before she became friends with the Golden Trio, Ginny and Neville, Luna didn't have any friends. She was very unpopular due to her strangeness, and this unpopularity meant that boys certainly didn't show her any attention. Though she had seen boys acting oddly around Ginny when they fancied her, Luna struggled to recognise it when it was aimed at her—mainly because it _rarely_ ever happened.

She had little to no experience with the male species. Her first date had been with Neville, and he had stuttered and acted quite awkwardly throughout, but that was just Neville whenever he was nervous. Then there was Barty—and nothing was normal about that experience.

Was Rolf _attracted_ to her?

The more she wondered about it, and how she'd had no real experience of someone crushing on her, the more it seemed to fit into place. She began to chew her lip in worry at that point—she didn't want Rolf to fancy her. She didn't want someone working with her who was at risk of crossing boundaries, and more importantly, she didn't want Barty to kill him.

Luna had covered her face with her hands, and made a mental note to have a proper discussion with him after the weekend in order to clear it up—even if it meant having to confess about her relationship with Barty.

When she was bidding goodbye to Rolf, he had stopped her once again, causing Luna to almost want to smash her face into the doorframe. "Yes?" she replied forcedly, bearing a grin at him.

"I just wondered if you could shed some light on this for me?" he asked, and stood up from his seat, walking over to her and pressing something into her hand. Luna looked down at her palm; a rolled up piece of parchment resided there. She unrolled it, and skimmed through the recognisable handwriting quickly.

" _Dear Rolf Scamander,_

 _First of all, I'd like to offer my congratulations on you beginning a job at the_ Quibbler _! That's great news, I'm sure that you will do a great job._

 _I know we don't really know each other, but I was hoping that you would accept my invitation to join me and my family for dinner on Sunday. Luna is practically part of our family, and as you will be working for her father's magazine, we really would love to meet you and get to know you._

 _Please RSPV to let me know if you'll be there._

 _Oh - and make sure not to tell Luna that I've written to you. I'd like it to be a surprise!_

 _Yours sincerely,  
_ _Ginny Weasley"_

Luna resisted the urge to scrunch the letter up as she passed it back to Rolf. "You've been invited to dinner with the Weasleys," she spoke in more of a statement, than a question.

"Weird, huh?" Rolf shoved it back into his pocket. "I never even spoke to Ginny at school. I might have spoken to one of her brothers over the years, but we were never friends."

Luna looked away from him, pursing her lips. "I'm going to get off, then," she muttered, before heading out of the printing room and leaving Rolf behind.

Rolf might not have noticed the underlying reason for the letter, but Luna could read between the lines very easily. Ginny had heard about Rolf getting a job at the _Quibbler_ , and clearly thought she was doing the right thing by creating a set up between him and Luna. She wanted to get Luna away from Barty once and for all, and clearly thought that the only way about it was by trying to get Luna a boyfriend.

She stormed out of the house, marching quite a lot further away than her usual apparition spot. It was coming dark over the hills due to the wintry season, and thick, cold rain splattered her face, soaking her through. She was so _angry_.

Ginny might think she was doing the right thing by creating this scenario, and deep down, Luna knew that her friend just wanted the best for her. But she was going about it in the complete wrong way; not only that, but Luna had already made it clear of her intentions to remain with Barty. As far as she was concerned, Ginny was just interfering at this point.

Luna glared at the steely, purpling sky, her fists clenched and her robes flapping wildly in the wind. She was an adult woman, capable of making her own decisions. She didn't need Ginny or the rest of the Weasley's trying to mould her life for her.

After another brief moment deep in her thoughts, Luna spun on the spot and vanished from Ottery St. Catchpole.

She appeared outside the Crouch Manor, and blinked up at its exterior for a few moments. She needed to tell Barty about what had happened. He needed to know—there couldn't be any lies between them, not if she wanted to remain focused on helping him improve his mental health.

"Luna?" the black painted door in front of her swung open, and Barty was standing on the welcome mat in the same clothes he had been wearing earlier. Luna noticed that the rip in his jeans was back, as if he'd been fidgeting with the threads again, and his overgrown hair was sticking up at odd angles. As if in answer to why it was like that, Barty raked his hand through his hair, blinking over at her. "What are you doing out there?" he crossed the threshold and grabbed Luna's arm, pulling her inside the house and shutting the door firmly behind them. "You're soaked," he muttered, pushing a strand of her wet hair over her ear.

She smiled and made to go past him, with the intention of standing in the kitchen and using a charm to dry her robes, but Barty pushed her against the door. She stared up at him, becoming aware of the hungry desperation in his eyes, before he started to kiss her. She kissed him back for a few moments, but when his hands began to travel southwards, she grabbed them and pulled them to her face.

"Barty, I have to talk to you."

He leaned back, looking slightly rejected. "What about?"

"Let's go into the kitchen," she replied quietly, and slipped under his arm, heading into the kitchen. He sat down at the table, and Luna made to fill him a large cup of his Calming Draught—noticing absently that there was a distinct lack of potion left in the cauldron. She handed it to him, and he eyed her suspiciously, but downed it nonetheless.

As soon as she noticed his face begin to soften and his eyes glaze over, Luna began talking, and didn't stop until he knew everything about the last two days she'd spent at work. She confessed about Rolf coming into work, and said how she felt she had no choice but to allow him the day to work, and how he made the attempt to ask her out, but she deflected every advance. She told him about Ginny sending the letter to him and what Luna thought it meant, but how she was only trying to do what she thought was best. _Everything_.

"Please, Barty," Luna begged, after she finished speaking. "Don't be angry with any of my friends. It's not their fault."

Strangely enough, Barty remained eerily silent throughout her outburst, staring at her as if he were looking right through her. There was a long, awkward silence, before he replied to Luna.

"Well, then," he said eventually, in an awful, strangled voice that sent shivers up and down Luna's spine. What was worse was the unusual smile he was giving her. "We'll have to deal with this issue on Sunday."

Luna chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, but didn't reply.

"Now," he continued, his face melting into his usual signature smirk. "Stop talking—for the next twenty minutes, anyway—while I remind you what I like to use this kitchen table for," he purred, standing up to face Luna. He pulled her into his embrace slightly viciously, and began to litter kisses along the expanse of her neck.


	25. An Unconventional Sunday Dinner

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

A young girl with dark auburn hair tied up scruffily in a ponytail had just landed in England, and was yawning as she made her way through Heathrow Airport, wheeling her trunk along behind her. It was the first time in her entire life that she'd ever travelled via aeroplane, and she hoped never to experience it again.

It was just after five a.m according to the world clocks that were on the walls around her. It wasn't long before she reached the exit to the airport, and discovered that it was dark and cold outside, with morning frost staining everything in sight. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she stood on the curb, as people around her were jumping into coaches and taxis. The cold weather in England was going to be a stark contrast to what she was used to back in Australia.

As the people around her began to dissipate slowly, she was beginning to feel tired, despite having slept a lot on the long plane journey. Perhaps this was the beginning of the 'jet-lag' that all the plane passengers had been complaining about.

A sudden _'pop!'_ cracked through the air, and the girl almost jumped out of her skin. In front of her, dressed in long black robes with a shirt underneath, was a balding, fairly short man.

"Good morning," he greeted with a wan smile, though he had heavy purple bags under his eyes, and he didn't look particularly welcoming, probably due to how early it was. "My name is Stamford Jorkins. I'm the official whose been dealing with your emigration from Australia to England."

The redhead returned his smile with as much effort as she could muster, and stuck out her hand to him. "Aurora," she replied, shaking his hand. "Aurora Greengrass."

oOo

Luna was combing her hair back as she stood in the kitchen, watching Barty. Unlike Luna, who was wearing an interesting set of flared, yellow and orange dress robes, Barty was wearing a baggy grey t-shirt and black slacks, and was padding around the kitchen barefoot. He was slowly stirring ingredients into the cauldron, poking his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.

Once he had rapped the ladle on the brim of the cauldron to shake any remaining potion back in, Luna moved closer to him. "Are you going to be doing this all day?" she asked him, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice. Today was the day that she would be going to the Burrow for dinner, and she couldn't help but think that Barty was taking it a little _too_ well. Since waking up, he had concentrated solely on replenishing his Calming Draught, and seemed suspiciously and uncharacteristically ambivalent towards the situation.

"Yes," Barty replied, turning to the large recipe volume that was laying open on the table. "If I don't get it done today, I'll be without my potion for the rest of the week."

Luna leaned over the cauldron and admired the fluid, sea-coloured liquid. It looked shimmery and slightly golden, as if someone had tipped a carton of golden glitter into it. She felt calm just looking into its summery depths.

"It looks great," she murmured, resisting the urge to fully lean against the edge of the cauldron and get her face closer to the potion. "Loads better than the batch you had brought for you."

"Well, I did get Outstanding grades in all of my Potions exams," said Barty, casting his dark eyes on Luna.

"You should've been in Ravenclaw."

Barty grinned, and leaned over to press a chaste kiss to the corner of her lips. "Perhaps _you_ should've been in Slytherin," he purred, sliding an arm around her waist.

She smiled, and pulled away. "I should get going," she told him, nodding towards the clock on the wall. It read half past twelve.

Barty clutched at her hand and stared after her meaningfully, as she reclaimed her fingers and wandered into the living room, sending another smile back at him. Once she was in the clearing of the living room, she turned on the spot, and apparated.

A few moments later she appeared a couple of kilometres away from the back of the Burrow, and began walking over, continuing to smile. Things were good—Barty seemed to be in a good mood, he was preparing his Calming Draught, and he seemed to be okay with her visit to the Burrow. Whilst there was a nagging sensation deep within her, confident that something was _bound_ to go wrong, she forced herself to ignore it. She was going to enjoy today. Today was going to be a good day.

As she got closer to the Burrow, she noticed Mrs Weasley in the kitchen window, waving at Luna animatedly. Luna waved back, and let herself in through the back door.

"Luna, dear, how nice to see you—I'm so glad you could make it!" Mrs Weasley greeted warmly, hugging her. "Ginny and Harry aren't down yet. Ron and Hermione are coming from a relative of Hermione's later on. Why don't you take a seat at the table while I'm monitoring dinner?"

Luna sat down at the kitchen table politely, and sat there silently while Mrs Weasley went about her business. She soon gathered that Mrs Weasley immediately regretted the decision to have Luna in such close proximity while there was no one else around, as it was obvious that she would have to make uncomfortable small talk.

After a few moments, she turned around and offered Luna a strained grin. "You look lovely, Luna," she told her. "You're glowing."

Luna dismissed the compliment, taking an opportunity to ask Molly the question that had been on her lips since she arrived. "Can I ask you a question, Mrs Weasley?"

"Of course, dear."

"Is Ginny trying to set me up with Rolf Scamander?"

The directness of the question seemed to take Molly by surprise, as she looked taken aback, flushing a deep red that rivalled the colour of her hair. Her mouth opened and closed repetitively, as she racked her brains for what to say. Luckily, at that moment, Mr Weasley burst through the kitchen door.

"Hello Luna!" he greeted jovially, walking over to Mrs Weasley and pressing a kiss to her blush-stained cheek. "Mm, it smells wonderful in here. I can't wait for dinner!" Mr Weasley was wearing what appeared to be denim overalls, which were covered in splodges of oil. "I've just been down in the shed, working on—" he stopped talking immediately, sending a worried glance at his wife. But it was too late.

"In the shed?" she shrieked suddenly, causing Luna to flinch. "And what were you working on _in the shed?"_ she flared up instantly, poking and jabbing at his chest as she shouted at him. Luna climbed up from her seat at the table, and backed into the living room quickly, feeling quite uncomfortable in the midst of their argument.

After a few moments of sitting in one of the armchairs nearest to the fire, she heard voices upstairs, and within minutes, Ginny and Harry were bustling down the stairs.

"...Harry, I told you, the guest list is finished now."

"You said that two weeks ago, and two hundred people have been added to it since then."

"Well, it's not my fault so many people want to come and see _the Chosen One_ get married."

"Shove off," Harry grumbled, as he entered the living room first, followed by a grinning Ginny.

"Luna!" her best friend shrieked, and she flew across the living room in a flurry of red hair. After almost suffocating Luna in a rib-crushing hug, Ginny climbed into the armchair with Luna, seemingly not affected by the fact that the armchair was only meant to hold one person. "I'm so glad to see you! Are you okay?" Ginny was clutching Luna's forearm and scanning her face worriedly.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?"

Harry sat down on the couch opposite them, his hands clasped together. "I think we all need to have a chat, Luna."

Luna smiled vaguely and looked over at Harry. She noticed that his emerald eyes couldn't quite meet hers, like he was uncomfortable to be around her. "Is this about how you have invited Rolf Scamander to dinner without telling me?"

Much like her mother had done, Ginny began to glow crimson. "He told you?"

"Of course he told me! He doesn't even know you, so he didn't have a clue why you would even invite him to your house. But it doesn't matter—I understood it."

Ginny licked her lips tentatively. "You did?"

Luna nodded.

"Well, I'm sorry Luna!" Ginny exclaimed, though she didn't sound the slightest bit sorry, and she proceeded to burst into a flood of speech. "Rolf really likes you! Didn't you notice how much he always used to stare at you when we were at school? He was always following you around! I was going to write to him before now, but then Dad came home and told us that Newt Scamander's grandson had been looking for a job, so he'd been appointed to work as temporary editor of _the Quibbler_. Then we heard that you had gone back to work there too, so I just assumed you were working together now. I thought it would be really nice if he could come over for dinner with you...so that...so that..."

"So that I could spend some quality time with him while Barty wasn't around?" Luna murmured, looking down at her fingernails.

"Believe me, none of the rest of us had anything to do with this," cut in a voice from the doorway. Luna looked up to see Ron standing there, with an apologetic Hermione by his side. They walked across the living room and sat down on the couch beside Harry. "We tried to tell her, but..."

"I just care about you so much!" yelled Ginny, jumping out of the armchair and glaring down at Luna. There were tears in her eyes, and Luna wanted to feel sorry for her—but this wasn't the first time that she had been in this situation with Ginny. "I'm meant to be concentrating on my upcoming wedding, but I can't even do that because I'm so worried about you."

"Not strictly true," Ron muttered. "She has pretty much the whole thing planned."

"Shut _up_ ," hissed Hermione, elbowing him viciously.

"You don't write anymore; you act different," continued Ginny. "I just don't know what happened to you! The Luna we know wouldn't have ever _dreamt_ of getting involved with a Death Eater!"

"He's not a Death Eater anymore," Luna replied quietly.

It was the wrong thing to say. Ginny flared up with the same fire that Luna had seen Molly release in the kitchen. "Why is that _all_ you ever say!" she screeched, shooting razors down at Luna. " _He's not a Death Eater anymore_ —that's not the _point!"_

"Ginny, calm down!" Harry spoke over her, walking over to his fiancée. She pushed him away before he could touch her.

"We're meant to be your friends—you're meant to be with someone normal like Rolf Scamander—but your cavorting around with this maniac like it's the most normal thing in the world!"

"Ginny, I love you, you're my _best_ friend. But you need to stop doing this! I can look after myself, and I appreciate what you're trying to do to help me—but I don't _need_ help. I don't need you getting involved anymore. You could only be endangering yourselves and maybe even Rolf."

"Do you hear yourself?" snapped Ginny, and she turned around to nod at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Do you hear this? She's practically saying that it's alright that he might _murder_ us."

"I don't think that's exactly what she said," interrupted Hermione, but her input went unheard.

"It just isn't like you at all," continued Ginny.

Luna had had enough. "How do you know, Ginny?" she replied sharply. "You spent so much time on dates with this boy and that boy in Hogwarts that I don't really know how you were able to see what I was like, seeing as you were snogging everyone in sight!" Luna clapped her hand over her mouth the moment the words left her mouth, feeling mortified.

It was out of character for her, yes. But she'd had enough of Ginny doing this—trying to change her mind, shouting at her for her choices, acting like she knew what was best—and mainly, sticking her nose in when it wasn't really necessary.

Ginny froze when Luna had finished speaking, her mouth hanging open. There was anger in her brown eyes, but they slowly softened, and she backed up against the couch where Harry was sitting, shrinking down to the floor. "I'm sorry," she muttered, not making eye contact with Luna.

Luna sank back down into the armchair, chewing on her bottom lip. "I'm sorry too," she whispered, unsure of what else to say.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and everyone looked over to the doorway. Mrs Weasley was standing there, with her hands on her hips, casting a vicious look at Ginny. Rolf Scamander was standing at her side, dressed a little too smartly for a casual Sunday dinner, and looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I think you two ought to go upstairs and have a chat," hissed Mrs Weasley as she ushered Rolf into the living room. Ginny rolled her eyes, and climbed up from the floor, gesturing for Luna to follow her.

Once they had made it up to her bedroom, Ginny threw her arms around Luna. "Please just give Rolf a try."

"I can't."

"But he's a really nice guy."

"I _can't_ , Ginny!" Luna pushed Ginny away.

"What is he making you do? Why is he forcing you to stay with him?"

"Ginny, he's not forcing me to stay there anymore. You know that. I want to stay with him."

"But _why?"_ Ginny sounded exasperated, and Luna felt it.

"Stop questioning it!" Luna begged. "He needs me. I want to stay with him. Please, just leave it."

Ginny groaned, but she smiled weakly. "Well, at least try to get to know Rolf," with a sigh, Luna eventually nodded—just to silence her.

"Can _I_ have a favour now?" Luna asked. Ginny nodded. "Can we please just not talk about Barty anymore. You clearly can't handle it, and I think the atmosphere will be a lot better if he's kept out of the conversation."

oOo

Mr Weasley had taken the kitchen table outside, and magically elongated it so that more people could sit around it. It was under a large gazebo, and enchantments had been placed around the table to keep it as warm as if they were sat indoors, as the weather outside was cold and wintry. Mrs Weasley marched out of the house and around the table, with a long string of various plates and dishes of food hovering behind her. One by one, the food touched ground on the long table, and the Weasley's guests were soon tucking into dinner.

As Luna had predicted, she had been strategically placed next to Rolf, with Ginny on her other side. Poor Rolf was looking more and more uncomfortable, especially as he and Luna were forced to listen to Ginny talking incessantly about her wedding plans.

"...we found you a great bridesmaids dress too, Luna, seeing as you ended up vanishing that day that me and Mum were in Diagon Alley. It'll look great on you—that is, if you're _allowed_ to come," she laughed and took a long gulp of her wine. "It's going to be a lovely Christmas wedding—sometime between Christmas Day and New Years Eve. Oh, your dress is a nice, icy blue. Not quite as blue as those robes you have, though..."

Ginny's voice tailed off as Luna began thinking about those robes, which were a particular favourite of Barty's. Her face and neck flushed hotly, and she tuned her thoughts back into what Ginny was saying.

"...there will be dyed pale blue roses too, and all of the men will have blue ties and roses in their button holes. All the décor will be white and blue, there will be ice sculptures, and Fleur has some Veela relatives that are going to perform for us."

"Veela relatives?" Ron looked suddenly interested. Hermione nudged him in the ribs, and he started coughing up the turkey he'd just previously swallowed, and gave Hermione a dirty look.

"Will you stop _doing_ that?" he hissed, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"As you can see, Ginny has planned everything right down to the last detail," Harry said, grinning at Ron. "Though I didn't really agree to the Veela performance...in fact, this is the first I'm hearing of it."

"They're not _full_ Veela, obviously," Ginny continued. "I mean, they're not going to turn into birds and stuff. They're just going to dance and sing."

"Sounds good to me," Ron muttered, earning him another rough nudge from Hermione.

"So, what do you think?" Ginny asked Luna, as she was cutting up her potatoes.

"It sounds lovely, Ginny. I can't wait to be a part of your wedding."

"So, you'll be able to come?"

"Of course."

Ginny beamed. "That's brilliant! Hey, maybe you could bring Rolf as your plus one?"

Rolf grinned, but Luna shot Ginny a strained smile, and said nothing. Ginny rolled her eyes, and they all continued to eat their dinner, without really saying much else. After a few moments, Ginny started to talk to Harry, and Ron and Hermione were having a private, angry-sounding discussion, leaving Luna to talk to no one else but Rolf.

He was eating his dinner slowly, though he kept shooting Luna glances. "This is nice," he commented, as he was scraping up the last of his gravy.

"What is?" Luna had also finished her dinner, and was sitting back in her chair.

"Spending time with you."

Luna sighed, and looked down at her fingers. "Rolf, we need to get some things straight. I'm not interested in you."

"I gathered as much," Rolf replied, his ears tingeing pink. "Is it that obvious that I'm interested in you?"

"Kind of."

"I have been for a long time," Rolf continued. He reached out for his wine, and drained the rest of the glass. "I'll tell you the truth now too, seeing as I've had quite a bit of this wine," he leaned closer so that he could whisper. "I only agreed to work on _the Quibbler_ so that I'd have the chance to maybe see you again," his grey eyes bored into her, and Luna was just considering the pity that was dwelling in them, that it took her a few moments to notice that he as moving even closer to her, so close that his breath was ghosting on her lips.

She jolted back quickly, and blinked at him. "What on earth are you doing?"

Colour flooded Rolf's face. "I'm sorry, Luna— - I...I think I misjudged you..."

"I don't know how, when I just made it quite clear that I'm not interested in you that way," she replied, slightly coldly. Ginny was shooting glances over at her, with the shadow of a smirk on her face. It was clear that she thought something was going on between them.

"If you carry on behaving like that I'm going to have to ask you to stop working with me," she told him. "I'm sorry."

As she finished speaking, she overheard Hermione whispering to Harry. "This set-up is _so_ dangerous," she was saying, cupping her hand around Harry's ear to try and keep the conversation private. "Barty could do something terrible."

"This isn't the first time I've heard someone mention Barty Crouch Junior's name," Rolf muttered, and he threw his napkin down. "Is there something going on between you and him?"

Luna pressed her lips together delicately. "I don't think that's any of your business."

"It is when _she_ ," Rolf pointed dramatically to Ginny, "has invited me over for dinner in order to try and set us up together! I don't want to get sucked into anything to do with that guy! I like you, Luna, but not enough to have anything to do with that _maniac_ — _"_

"—what maniac?"

Every pair of eyes at the table pivoted towards the end of the gazebo, and Luna's heart swooped. Barty was standing at the end of the table, his long fringe hanging in his eyes, and his hands shoved in the pockets of his long brown overcoat.

A clatter of forks on plates sounded around the gazebo, and a flurry of people dived to their feet. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Mr Weasley, George, Percy, Bill and Charlie had all sprung to action, pointing their wands at Barty. Despite it being eight against one, Barty just laughed, and made his way around the table. His eye had caught Luna's, and he was smirking—a smirk that did nothing but fill Luna with worry.

"Please put your wands down," Luna asked, standing up slowly from her seat. "He's not going to do anything, are you Barty?"

Barty pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them in the air, as if in surrender. "I'm not the one pointing a wand." Slowly, everyone sat down and lowered their wands, and Luna edged to Barty's side, watching him carefully. "I just came to...pick Luna up."

"She didn't need picking up!" Ginny hissed. She was the only one who hadn't put her wand away, and was clutching it in her fist. Her face was flooded with anger, and there was fire in her eyes.

"Barty, let's just go," Luna muttered, but Barty pressed a finger to her lips, effectively quietening her.

"Shh," he snarled, his gaze settling on Luna. "Listen, Cupid, I know you've tried to organise this little set-up between Luna and this Scamander boy," Barty's scanned the rest of the table, before spotting Rolf, who was apparently trying to sink into the ground. "Try this again, and I won't react well."

"Barty, _please_ ," Luna whispered, staring around the table apologetically. "Lets go."

"Luna is _mine,_ " he finished, before grabbing her upper ram. Luna barely had enough time to wave goodbye, before she was sucked into side-along apparition with Barty.


	26. Aurora Cordelia Greengrass

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

It was two a.m, and Ginny was angry.

She had tossed and turned in bed for several hours, trying in vain to get some sleep. It was impossible; her head was completely wrecked with the events of the dinner. Beside her, Harry was sleeping soundly, his hands tucked under the pillows as he snored softly. Clearly, he didn't appear to be as angry as she was.

She wasn't just angry; she was _furious_. Everytime she closed her eyes, she saw his smirking, cruel face, as he stood there in the middle of their family dinner as though he had been personally invited. Whenever there was silence, she heard his voice rattling through her head, telling the family that he had arrived to pick Luna up, and then hushing her when she spoke. How did he have the nerve to speak to her like that? How did he have the gall to just show up at their family dinner and interrupt them so rudely?

Ginny shot up into a sitting position and glared out of the window, and Harry rolled over into the space where her head had just been. There was no way she could lie here and try to go to sleep. There was no way she could stay out of it. Not this time.

She climbed to her feet and wandered around the bedroom quietly, pulling on her clothes and shoes, and headed downstairs, closing the door behind her gently. She knew she should mind her own business. She knew that she needed to keep her nose out. But as she slipped outside into the cold night air, and wandered a little further away from the Burrow so that there was no chance of anyone hearing her, she knew that there was no way she could keep out of it.

Picturing the place that she was going to be heading to, Ginny turned on the spot and vanished.

She appeared seconds later in the middle of a dark living room, with pale walls and haughty velvet furniture that stood like eerie shadows in the middle of the pitch black room. After a waiting for a moment to ensure that no one had heard the distinctive noise that apparition made, Ginny took a few tentative steps forward.

The first thing she wanted to do was check that she wouldn't be overheard. She could've just cast a silencing charm on the kitchen, where she would be going, but truth be told, Ginny was too curious.

She trod carefully up the stairs, climbing slowly up two levels until she reached the final floor, which had only one corridor and two doors. She advanced on the door that was open, pulling her wand out of her pocket.

The room was flooded in creamy moonlight, which was shining in from a large, ceiling-to-floor window. Ginny peered her head around the door frame, casting her eyes towards the four-poster, sapphire-quilted bed.

The two people that inhabited the bed looked ethereally pale; their opalescent skin glowing spectrally in the milky light. Luna was laid on her back, her face soft and gentle, and her long, flaxen blonde hair fanned out around her head, looking silver in the dark. Laid on his side beside her was Barty, shirtless and facing her, as though he had fallen asleep admiring her. His hand was clasped with one of hers, their fingers intertwined.

Ginny felt automatically repulsed by the sight. She backed out of the room quickly, and rose her wand towards the door. _"Muffliato,"_ she breathed, immediately preventing any sound from breaching the doorway.

After ensuring that neither Barty or Luna would hear her, Ginny headed back downstairs, and made her way into the kitchen.

Her target was sat on the kitchen table. A medium sized cauldron rested there, with a large lid over the top of it. Ginny wandered over to the cauldron and carefully pushed the lid away, taking a good look inside. It was full to the brim with a bright, greeny-blue liquid. When Ginny inhaled, she smelt sea salt, fresh air and the smell that the rain brought along with it on a hot day.

It was the perfect Calming Draught. Ginny doubted that even Professor Slughorn could produce such an immaculate potion. But it had to go.

Ginny walked over to the sink, where a metal jug resided. She scooped it out, magically enlarged it, and then set it beside the cauldron. Afterwards, she dipped her finger into the cauldron and then wiped it across her lips, making a mental note of how it tasted.

" _Aguamenti,"_ she murmured, and a stream of water poured out of the tip of her wand and slowly filled the jug. Once it was full, she concentrated hard, and transfigured the water into an identical replica of the potion in the cauldron.

It looked identical, and upon tasting it, Ginny discovered that it tasted almost the same, too. But it was a complete fake; there were absolutely no calming qualities that would be provided from the pretend potion. It was nothing more than pretty water.

Ginny flourished her wand at the cauldron, and the real potion vanished instantly. Afterwards, she took the jug of fraudulent potion, and tipped it into the cauldron. She shrunk the empty jug, replaced it on the sink, and stood in the middle of the dark kitchen. There was just one other thing.

" _Accio_ medication," she whispered, blinking around the kitchen. A draw at the farthest side of the kitchen flew open, and several sheets of pills soared towards her. These were much easier to replace with placebo tablets, and after shoving the real pills - the packets which were all labelled with an odd word—Venlafaxine—into her pocket, she folded her arms in the middle of the kitchen, admiring her handiwork.

It was probably a little too harsh, granted, but Ginny knew it was the right thing to do. After a few days, or maybe a week, all of the Calming Draught and medication would be out of Barty's system. It wouldn't be long before he went back to his old self, before he flipped or did something reckless. He might even try to hurt Luna.

The thought filled Ginny with dread, but she gritted her teeth. Maybe him doing something to hurt her would make her realise that she needed to be as far away from him as possible.

Not to mention, there was always the possibility that whatever he morphed into without his medication would return him straight back to Azkaban.

oOo

When Aurora cracked her eyes open, bright white daylight was streaming into her vision.

She sat up slowly, running a hand through her long hair and brushing the tendrils out of her face, before taking a look at the room around her. She was in the inn called the Leaky Cauldron, which was about all she could remember since arriving here. She had been so tired, that the moment Stamford Jorkins delivered her here, she had pretty much collapsed on the musty, moth-eaten bed.

It was a grubby little room, with dirty windows, plain unpainted walls, and a stained, uncovered wooden floor. Aurora shivered as she sat there on the lumpy mattress of her bed—the harsh winter outside had easily penetrated this little inn, and she was freezing cold. It was a surprise she'd survived the night.

A knock at the door caused her to groan and force herself out of the bed. She dressed quickly, pulling several layers over her body in order to maintain some warmth, and then opened the door. A young woman stood there, her pale, thin brown hair tied up in a ponytail and a grubby, flower-print apron around her podgy waist. "Good afternoon," she greeted politely, though her smile was slightly forced, and she tapped her foot slightly impatiently. "Will you be joining us for dinner?"

"Dinner?" Aurora asked, raising her eyebrows. "What time is it?"

"Three-thirty," the girl replied, stifling a yawn.

Aurora muffled a gasp with her palm, feeling quite appalled. She'd virtually slept the entire day away. Perhaps this was the fabled jet lag that she'd heard so much about. Despite being tired, and wanting nothing more but to curl back up on the bed, her stomach protested, so she nodded.

As the woman led Aurora down the corridor, she attempted to make idle small talk. "Have you worked here long?" she questioned politely.

"No," she replied. "I've just started helping out every few days. My grades weren't that great, so my job prospects are kind of limited."

"Your grades?" Aurora asked. "Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"Hufflepuff House," she responded with a wider smile. "From your accent, I'm gathering you're not from England?"

"Australia, actually."

"Did you go to school over there?"

"I did six years at the Australian Sorcery School of Elements," Aurora told her as they reached the bar area of the Leaky Cauldron, and she was led to a small table near the back. "I've missed my last year, though, due to some...family problems, so I've requested to study an extra year at Hogwarts."

"School of _Elements?"_ replied the girl, looking slightly mystified. She sat down opposite Aurora, resting her chin in her hands. "How does that work?"

Aurora smiled wanly. "Well, in Australia, witches and wizards believe that all magic comes from the barest elements of the earth. Magic is an energy that courses through our bodies from our connection to the earth. Some of the more hardcore theorists even speculate that _Muggles_ are magic, too, but they just don't have the ability to release their magical energy," she paused, taking another look at the girl, to ensure she hadn't bored her to death already.

"Go on," she urged, her eyes wide.

"Well, when we first go to the school, we have to do this test where you're surrounded by six different objects. They change all the time, but they always resemble an element. You are made to stand in the centre of the circle of objects, and hone all of your magical energy into your centre. The object that reacts to your magic is the element that you will be focusing on."

" _Focusing_ on?"

"Yes. We get separated into six separate...well, they would be what you call your Houses. For me, the object that reacted was a porcelain jug of water, so I was put in the School of Aqua. For the next six years, most of my magical skills were put into further developing my talent for manipulating water."

"Wow...it's so different!" the girl exclaimed. "But, can you do other magic? Like _inferno_ and things?"

"I can cast other spells with a wand of course, but water is the ultimate strong point for me," Aurora replied, and she pointed her finger to a glass of water that was on the table. "Watch." Silently, and using no wand or verbal spell, Aurora caused the water to rise from the glass in an eerie bubble, allow it to float there momentarily, and then spatter back down into the glass in a thin stream.

"That's amazing. I've always been rubbish at non-verbal magic."

"Believe me, any spell that isn't water-related, I can't do it without a wand or a spoken spell," Aurora continued. "It's just the way they teach us over there. I'm sure that if you found out your elemental strength and focused just on that, you'd be able to cast nonverbal spells on your strong point before long."

"What other elemental schools are there?"

"Fire, Earth, Air, Energy and Ice," Aurora counted them off her fingers as she went on.

"Hannah!" a male voice yelled from the bar suddenly, causing both of the girls to flinch. "Do you want to get paid today?"

"Sorry, Tom," Hannah muttered, rolling her eyes expressively. She stood up, and stuck her hand out to Aurora, who shook it politely. "Sorry about that. I'll catch you later at some point though, yeah? My name is Hannah Abbott, by the way—sorry I didn't tell you that sooner."

"Aurora Greengrass," Aurora greeted enthusiastically, grinning widely at Hannah. "Thanks so much for talking to me—the move over here has been pretty crummy. I haven't really had many friends in the last year, and I wasn't expecting to meet someone so soon when I got here."

"Nice to meet you, Aurora," Hannah dropped her hand, and smoothed down her apron. "Anyway. I'll speak to you soon!" she hurried over to the bar, where the landlord, Tom, was tutting at her. Aurora leaned back in her seat, feeling a lot better than she had done upon waking up.

oOo

During her short lunch break that day, Luna decided to take a walk over to the Burrow to see if she could speak to Ginny. Rolf hadn't shown up for work, probably after yesterday's shenanigans, and she'd had no word or letter from any of the Weasleys.

The Sunday dinner had gone spectacularly wrong, but Luna didn't want to dwell on that. It had happened, she was suitably embarrassed, and she knew that the Weasleys and her friends were probably extremely irritated with her and her choice to leave with Barty. Luna had replayed the event in her head all morning, and when the clock struck twelve, she had made the decision to try and straighten things out with Ginny.

She didn't want to talk about Barty or what kind of a person he was or wasn't. She just wanted to remind Ginny that she was still her friend, and she still loved her and cared about her deeply.

Luna spotted Mrs Weasley in the kitchen once again as she was advancing upon the back entrance of the Burrow, but she didn't look as pleased to see her as she had done yesterday. Instead of shouting for Luna to let herself in, Mrs Weasley instead came to the kitchen door, closing it behind her sharply.

"Hello, Luna. Lovely to see you," Mrs Weasley greeted, though she sounded a little stiff. Molly wasn't the greatest actress, and Luna could tell by the way that her eyebrows furrowed together, and the corners of her lips tugged downwards in a stern frown, that she wasn't particularly happy to see Luna at all.

"Hi, Mrs Weasley. Sorry to barge here uninvited. I just wondered if I could see Ginny?" Luna made to walk past Mrs Weasley, but the older woman didn't budge, remaining firmly in place like a wide, red-haired brick wall.

"I don't think that's really appropriate, Luna," Mrs Weasley simpered. "She's been very upset since yesterday. I think you just need to give her a little bit of space."

Luna sighed and shrunk back. "Mrs Weasley, I _know_ that Barty was out of order just showing up yesterday. Honestly, if I thought he was going to do something like that, I wouldn't have even come. I really need to speak with her. She's my best friend."

"I'm sorry, dear."

Luna stared up at Mrs Weasley blankly. There was no way that she was going to budge - Ginny hadn't inherited her famous Weasley stubbornness from just anyone. "I...I guess I'll try her again another time, then," she mumbled, and turned away, beginning to walk back to her own house on the hill.

oOo

Meanwhile, upstairs in the Burrow, Ginny was crouched at her bedroom window, watching Luna's retreating blonde figure.

There was no way she could talk to Luna and pretend that everything was okay again - not now, not after what she had done.

Since waking up in her own bed, Ginny was beginning to regret tampering with Barty's potion. She had been angry—explosively angry, and she had reacted on that anger. What she had done was dangerous, not only to Barty, but to Luna, and anyone else he came into contact with when he was unstable. If something dreadful happened, she would be to blame.

Ginny swallowed and sat down on the floor, burying her face in her hands. What had she done?

oOo

After dinner, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, Tom, brought something over to Aurora. It was a parchment envelope, with a Hogwarts crest stamped into the wax seal. She fingered the parchment at her table hopefully, praying that it would have the answer that she so desperately wanted.

Hannah sat down opposite her, pulling off her apron. Her shift had ended now, so Tom couldn't complain for her slacking off. "Is that from Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," Aurora replied, running her finger across the inked address. _Aurora Greengrass, Room Three, The Leaky Cauldron, London, England._ "They said they would write to me with their final decision. I'm too scared to open it," Aurora pushed the letter over to Hannah. "Will you do it for me?"

Hannah shrugged, and picked up the letter. She slid her finger into the parchment, deftly slicing it open, and pulled out the sheet of folded parchment inside. It was fairly short.

Aurora chewed her fingernails down to the quick as she watched her new friends eyes scanning the letter.

Hannah's face fell, as she placed the letter down carefully on the table. "I'm sorry, Aurora," she murmured. "They can't let you join."

Aurora resisted the urge to slam her face into the desk dramatically.

"That was my only option," she mumbled, her throat suddenly feeling uncomfortably thick. "What am I going to do now?"


	27. The Most Unfixable

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

oOo

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the Sunday dinner at the Burrow had been unceremoniously crashed by Barty, and he was becoming increasingly aware that his mental state was beginning to gradually decline.

As the days drew on, he was growing more and more irritable, stroppy, but worst of all, emotional. He couldn't quite understand why – he was doing everything right, he met with Dawlish and Doctor Babar weekly; he made his potion perfectly; he took his medication routinely. But he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong – as though the Calming Draught just wasn't working as effectively anymore.

He had spent nearly every evening after work vanishing and re-brewing the potion, starting entirely from scratch and following the instructions down to the very last detail. He took the potion twice, sometimes even thrice a day, often doubling up measurements and having extra too – but all of his efforts were in vain.

The first thing he became aware of was sickness. No vomiting, just a deep, prominent nausea that often sent him running to the toilet to hang over it, retching and dry heaving painfully into the porcelain. Then it was the headaches – horrible, morning-to-night migraines that caused his temples to throb violently, and wouldn't be ceased by even the strongest pain relief charms or potions.

However, he could cope with the physical problems he was experiencing. It was the psychological dilemmas that plagued him.

His violent temper had returned almost overnight. He found himself snapping at Luna almost every day, and on several of his more stressful moments, he had to force himself to take a five minute break from the office because he was sure that he would commit magical arson to the whole Administration Department. In order to maintain the explosive reactions and responses that he was trying so hard to keep under wraps, Barty had taken to ferociously scratching the back of his hand with his fingernails. Strangely enough, he found that the sudden burst of pain that came from this action soothed the storm that brewed inside of him, and calmed his rampant emotions – for a few hours, at least.

The only problem was that he was beginning to scratch himself so hard that he would dig through layers of skin and into the flesh. He made sure to heal the sores before going home to Luna. He knew she would worry about him, and aside from her current qualms about her friends, she actually seemed relatively happy. But as time drew on, each breath he took was becoming harder and harder; the old leather belt starting to tighten around his chest and crush his lungs, just a little bit more with every passing day.

He couldn't bear to burden Luna. She understood his mental instability now, moreso while he was successfully medicated, and their relationship was working – as best as a relationship as unorthodox as theirs could.

Barty was heading to his weekly appointment with Dawlish, and for the first time ever, he was relieved to be meeting his WatchWizard. As he made his way through the Atrium in the morning, he wondered whether it was worth requesting an extra appointment at the Healing Clinic in order to see if there was anything else Doctor Babar could do for him.

Barty hated asking for help; it went against everything that he stood for. It made him feel weak and vulnerable, things he wasn't prone to exposing to anyone. But he was desperate for help, desperate for the _normalcy_ that taking the Calming Draught brought with it.

oOo

"Regulus Black," Aurora repeated to the landlord, biting back her frustration. "Have you ever heard of anyone called Regulus Black?"

Aurora was distressed. She had been situated in England for more than two weeks now, and her being here was beginning to feel rather pointless.

After her mother, Cordelia, had died rather suddenly from a brain cancer that she had been hiding from Aurora since first receiving the diagnosis, Aurora had been left with very little money to inherit. At first, this problem hadn't been high on her list of priorities – in fact it had been virtually non-existent. She was dealing with mourning both her mother and the horrific disease that she had been keeping secret. Adding to that that nothing was left for her in Australia – she had left school a few months before her mother died, knowing that she was gravely ill and needed around the clock supervision. There was no way of re-entering the Australian Sorcery of Elements – once you left, you left. Without any reliable qualifications, getting a job in Wizarding Australia was virtually impossible.

She had been sure that coming to England, her mother's home country, would be the answer to all of her woes. But since receiving the letter from Hogwarts, stating that she would be unable to attend the school for a final year of schooling, things seemed to have gone further downhill. She had hurriedly commenced job searching in Diagon Alley, but it was just as useless as Australia. In the wake of the latest Wizarding War, business wasn't exactly booming. Not to mention that the knowledge of the release of Azkaban inmates made most of the shopkeepers fairly prejudiced. Pureblood families had faced the brunt of judgement since Voldemort had been overtaken, and as Aurora bore the name Greengrass, which was amongst something called the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight', she wasn't to be trusted. Her coming from a distant land didn't help her case, and in light of the recent events, she couldn't be trusted by the tight-knit Wizarding community that didn't know anything about her.

Aurora had initially panicked upon becoming aware that she had very little gold left to her name. Luckily, after spending an evening crying over the bar to Tom, he had expressed pity for her situation, and promised that she could stay in her room at the Leaky Cauldron free of charge for as long as she needed to – so long as she help pull her weight around the pub.

Despite Tom's kindness, Aurora still couldn't help but feel depressed. After the devastating death of Cordelia, Aurora had thrown everything into coming to England. Her mother had told her bedtime stories of her escapades at Hogwarts, and judging from how wonderful the place sounded, Aurora frankly hadn't expected to be declined a position there. The past year had been much too tragic for Aurora to even consider that more bad news could come her way.

Her final option had been to search for some family, with the hope that someone could offer her a home and perhaps some stability. However, the only name that her mother had written down in one of her many old journals was Regulus Black, a man that she had never spoken about to Aurora. Cordelia had been far too clever than to spare any of the names to Aurora in the stories that she had told her, so Aurora had no idea just who this man was – but it was a start.

Tom scratched his stubbly chin in thought. "Had a lot of Blacks through here," he told her. "But never a Regulus – at least, not that I recall. There was so many of them."

"Was?"

Tom looked apologetic. "Aurora, the Black bloodline is extinct – at least in the male bloodline. The last one to go was Sirius Black. You must have heard of him – everyone thought he was responsible for a heinous crime committed over a decade ago. He escaped Azkaban prison, but died two years afterwards at the Ministry of Magic. It was later confirmed that he never committed the crime he was sentenced for."

Aurora refrained from crashing her head against the bar surface.

"Was this Regulus your father?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. Mother never told me anything about my father or any of her friends while she lived in England. His name was the only one I could find in her notes. She was otherwise careful to make sure that I wouldn't find out about anyone she was affiliated with."

"I don't know why you haven't decided to seek out any of your maternal family members," Tom replied. "I know there's a lot of Greengrasses around – in fact, the youngest Malfoy boy is engaged to one of them, I hear."

Aurora shrugged. "Mother never spoke of her family either, even when I asked. I often wished for cousins, aunties – even a grandma and granddad. But no matter how much I asked, she wouldn't relent. I just grew to believe that she'd had some huge family argument with them."

Tom smiled sympathetically. "Well, the Greengrass family may be the best place to start."

oOo

Dawlish appeared to be adamant to avoid the subject of Barty's mental health during their meeting, something that had always seemed to make him extremely uncomfortable. As he sat at his desk across from Barty, lazily scrawling in a notebook, all he did was bring up more and more questions about Luna living in his house – something that was now common knowledge around the Ministry, and not to mention the biggest topic of most office gossip.

After what seemed like hours of trying to get Dawlish to just listen to him, Barty found himself tailing off into a lapse of speech.

"…I didn't want to let Luna go to the _Quibbler_ , and I definitely didn't want to stay there, especially after that damned dinner with the Weasleys," Barty was rambling, leaning back in his chair with his hands threaded through his hair, trying to dull the headache. "The potion helps – the potion _did_ help with those feelings. I was still a little anxious about her leaving at first, but it got better. I trusted her. I do trust her. I _think_ I trust her. _I don't know!"_ Barty tugged at his hair as he tried to make sense of his thoughts. "Everything has changed."

"We were really great," he continued. "I wasn't getting angry every day and Luna wasn't getting upset. But something isn't right now. I just don't feel right anymore."

"How exactly _do_ you feel?" asked Dawlish, stifling a yawn and laying his notebook down on the desk.

Barty leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "Like I've fallen into a well," he spoke gravely, his voice slightly raspy. "I can see the top, but there's no way for me to climb out of it."

"I don't think I understand."

"I want to be angry. I just want t be angry. I think I am angry…but this…" Barty clenched his fists, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes. "This _bleakness_ is so much worse."

"Do you think that's the problem? Do you think that you're depressed?" Dawlish narrowed his eyes over at Barty.

"I have no idea. I just want Luna to be happy. And I can't make her happy while I'm like this. The potion isn't working; the medication isn't working. Nothing is going to work, so she can't be happy," he babbled. His throat felt thick, as this sudden realisiation washed over him.

"So…Barty…ugh…" Dawlish rubbed his fingers over his forehead. "You need to make things a little clearer for me, because I'm really struggling to understand you. Every time I ask, you tell me that you and Luna are 'just living together'. But after all that you just told me? This desperation for Luna to be happy? You sound like a different person to the person who I first met when I knocked on your door that day. I'm beginning to think that there are things going on between you and Luna that you're not telling me. Would you care to elaborate on any of that?" he picked up his quill again, and poised it over his notebook, preparing to write more notes.

"You are just obsessed with my relationship with Luna, aren't you?"

"Would you say it's a relationship?"

"Would you just shut up?" snarled Barty coldly, furrowing his brow. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Barty, you have to understand. It's just something a lot of people can't get to grips with. A young girl living with a Death Eater twice her age? It's obscene. People talk."

"We don't care about people talking," Barty snapped. "And I am no longer a Death Eater! You know that."

Dawlish held up his hands in defence, an expression of alarm flashing across his lined features. "You haven't been taking your potion and medication properly, have you?"

Barty almost dived out of his seat to punch Dawlish on the nose, but he managed to restrain himself by digging the fingernail of his index finger into the space behind his thumb on the opposite hand, forming a shallow red welt. Dawlish focused his eyes on this action, and chose to look away pointedly, pursing his lips and briefly closing his eyes. "Have you listened to anything I've just said?" Barty hissed. "I take it all the time! It isn't _fucking_ working anymore!" he clutched at his temples, his brow furrowing. The migraine was worse than ever, and he could feel the blood pulsing dramatically throughout his entire body.

Dawlish jumped to his feet and walked over to the window, raking his fingers through his grey-threaded hair. "Look, this is the last time we're going to meet."

"What?"

"I'm not doing this anymore! They'll have to assign you a new WatchWizard. You're crazy, and I'm not a damned Healer!"

Barty slowly leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow and focusing his murderous brown glare on Dawlish.

"I'll write to your Healer at the clinic," Dawlish continued, sitting back down and breathing deeply. "But I'm not making any promises. Today is the last day before most departments in the Ministry go on shutdown for the Christmas period, and the same goes for most medical clinics other than hospitals with emergency departments. There won't be any available appointments over Christmas, so it just depends on whether Babar can come out to see you personally. If you can't get an appointment over Christmas and come into any crisis, you'll have to go to St. Mungos for emergency help. I'll send you an owl if I have any news – okay?"

Barty stood up, shooting Dawlish a glare before standing up slowly and walking towards the door.

"And Barty?"

"What?"

Dawlish gave him a slightly apologetic look. "I'm sorry this couldn't work out between us. It's just not where my expertise lies."

Barty turned his face away, and stalked from Dawlish's office – hopefully for the final time.

As he headed through the Atrium to start making his way home, he dwelled on the realisation that had spawned within him, and the new worries that it had drawn up, and his mind clouded over.

His life was a complete mess. It always had been. He always tried to calm his emotions through other means – acting against his father, joining to Death Eaters and committing the atrocities that came with his allegiance to Voldemort.

And to add to the life full of bullshit that he had suffered, he had made the conscious choice to drag Luna into his pit of misery along with him.

When he first left Azkaban and met Luna, he could've cared less about how his actions could affect and defile her. He had been uncaring and ruthless; indifferent and cruel. Luna had meant nothing to him back then' she was just there and ripe for the plucking. But all those icy feelings had thawed now. He was different. _They_ were different.

Barty had always tried to avoid his confusing thoughts about Luna, but he knew just how he felt now. He had become deeply attached to Luna, so much so that the thought of hurting her any more than he already had made him want to claw his own eyes out.

He briefly closed his eyes, letting a vision of her pale face wash over his mind; a memory of her lying beside him on the bed at the top floor of his manor. Pale, ivory skin; icy grey vacant eyes; long, silver-blonde locks tumbling over her shoulders like yards of freshly spun cotton. No one had ever understood Barty like Luna did. No one had ever connected with him on a level as deep as she did.

Luna needed to be placed on a pedestal and adored. Barty was completely undeserving of her affections.

Working at the _Quibbler_ could be the start of her life. He could be preventing her from experiencing a true, real happiness.

As Barty entered his empty house, knowing that Luna would still be working at her old home in Ottery St. Catchpole, he rubbed at his eyeballs again. He threw himself onto the living room couch and pulled at his hair, cursing the dark thoughts that were coursing through his mind.

 _Let her go_ , whispered a gravelly voice, that caused him to flinch and claw at his ears and screw his eyes shut. _Let her go. She can be happy. You can stay here, broken and unfixable._

Barty rolled sideward onto the couch, and slid down on the cushions until he fell to the floor, where he buried his face into the carpet. It did nothing to help him.

Visions began to flood through his mind like a picture show, but they were things he hadn't seen before.

 _He was walking through a house that was filled with various unusual objects; a wide room with large, asymmetrical windows and brightly patterned drapes. It was Luna's old house; he could tell from the vibrantly coloured magazines that were lying around on the furniture, emblazoned with the words 'Quibbler'. He continued on his way, climbing up the spiralling staircase that was in the centre of the living room._

 _There were voices coming from a room on the second floor, and a throaty giggle that he recognised all too well._

"Luna," Barty murmured into the carpet, desperately trying to block out the images.

 _Despite trying to prevent them, Barty's feet continued to tread carefully across the wooden floor, making sure to keep his footsteps steady so as to not let any floorboards creak. He soon reached the door at the end of the corridor he was upon; painted pale blue and adorned with a small sign in the middle of the door, which read 'Luna'._

 _The voices were louder now. He pushed it open, allowing sunlight from the wide windows in that room to momentarily blind him, causing him to raise a hand to his eyes and squint through his fingers._

 _Two figures laid in the double bed across from him, their pale bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and long blonde hair. As his eyes adjusted, he could make them out clearer._

 _Rolf Scamander was wrapped around Luna, his pasty arms curled over her waist. She was smiling up at Barty, but her hands were buried in his mousy hair, drawing his head closer to her._

 _And then they were kissing; they were kissing so passionately that it brought physical pain to Barty's heart. He staggered back, his vision blurring, mind whirring, desperate to tear what he'd just seen from his brain._

As the vision slowly melted away from his mind, Barty was sobbing into the carpet loudly, tears and salvia pouring from his face. Every pore and nerve ending in his body ached, but worst of all was the blood pounding through his body, deafening him like a drum.

As if he needed any more problems; now he was having hallucinations.


	28. Luna's Worst Nightmare

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

 **Authors Note:** Please take care when reading this chapter. Some material is very sensitive and may be triggering for certain individuals.

* * *

oOo

It was Christmas Eve, and Luna was feeling brighter and better than she had done in a while. She and Rolf had finally finished the first full edition of the _Quibbler_ since Xenophilius had left the country, and copies had been shipped out across the United Kingdom, to be received on Christmas morning. It was a bumper edition, fully packed with exciting articles that the had been working hard on for the last few weeks.

She wuld be going home today and not returning to the _Quibbler_ until after New Year's Day. Even though Luna enjoyed spending her days at her old home in Ottery St. Catchpole, she couldn't deny that she was looking forward to the time away from writing and Rolf. It was going to be the first Christmas she spent away from her father, but she was looking forward to it—even though she and never in a million years imagined that she would be spending it with someone like Barty.

Even though she was trying to remain positive, Luna was becoming more and more aware that Barty was on a steady mental decline. She hadn't wanted to pressure him too much, because he was prone to snapping at her more than usual these days, but she had risked a few flyaway comments regarding his emotional state. After Barty had incoherently mumbled something about his childhood Christmasses not being the greatest, Luna had assumed he was feeling low because he had no Christmas spirit—and Christmas was _everywhere_ at the moment. All this did was give Luna the incentive to make sure that Barty had the best Christmas ever.

She couldn't wait to get home and spend some time with Barty. Since he had finished work for the Christmas holidays a few days ago, he had spent every day curled up in the bed they shared on the top floor of the manor. HE rarely ate full meals, and nearly every nights sleep had been broken by Barty waking up in the night, his mouth ripped open in a tortured scream, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his wild brown eyes rolling manically in his skull. Luna always acted quickly; she would run down the stairs to fetch up a cup of his Calming Draught—though it rarely had much of an effect anymore—and tip it into his dry mouth steadily. Then she would gently lower him back down into the bed, and stroke his damp hair soothingly while he sobbed himself to sleep.

He was broken, and Luna only hoped that it would subside once the Christmas period was over. She had pledged to stay with him over the holidays around the clock, and do her best to try and will some life back into him. Luckily, he would even be by her side during Harry and Ginny's wedding, as the invitation she had recently received bore both of their names.

It had been quite a shock when the owl had delivered the invitation. Since the Weasley's dinner party, Luna had been sure that Ginny wanted no more to do with her, much less Barty.

"Are you still going to be Ginny's bridesmaid?" Rolf asked, as he was pulling his travelling cloak around his shoulders, preparing to go home. It had been another surprise that Rolf had even wanted to return to the _Quibbler_ after he had come face to face with Barty, but it seemed that he was choosing to act as though the incident had never happened.

Luna was signing her name at the bottom of a Christmas card when Rolf spoke. She sealed the envelope and fastened it to the leg of an owl that was perched on the windowsill. "Take this to Xenophilius Lovegood," she murmured to the bird, before turning to Rolf and shrugging. "I'm not entirely sure. Ginny hasn't spoken to me since that day, so I'm not sure what part I will play at the wedding." She picked up her bag from the able, and she and Rolf made their way to the front door, preparing to leave.

"Well, Merry Christmas, Luna," Rolf bade her with a smile.

"Same to you, Rolf."

"Are you sure I can't tempt you to some Christmas eggnog at the Leaky Cauldron?" he added hopefully, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Are you serious?" she muttered, shaking her head dismissively.

Rolf shrugged, continuing to grin. "I guess I'll see you at the wedding."

Luna glanced at him. Rolf was only going to be attending the wedding if he was going as her plus one. "You got an invite?"

"Yep," Rolf replied, pulling a pearly pale blue envelope out of his pocket. "I got it this morning. I suppose since I was invited to the dinner party, I became part of the elusive Golden Trio's friendship circle," he grinned.

Luna suppressed a humorous smile. "Well, I suppose I'll see you there," she told him, before turning on the spot to apparate.

oOo

Ginny was pacing around her bedroom, raking her hands viciously through her auburn hair.

The wedding was in four days time, just seventy-two hours after Christmas Day, but nothing seemed to be going right. Harry and Ron were out playing _Quidditch_ , Fleur had walked out of the Burrow in a strop after she and Ginny had come to a disagreement over the colour of the dress that Ginny wanted Fleur to wear. Her mother was focusing on preparing for Christmas, and every time Ginny tried to bring up the wedding to her, she shook her head and told Ginny that she should've known better than to plan a Weasley wedding around Christmas time. Her father was spending as much time out of the way as possible, hiding himself in the shed and doing a good job of getting away promptly if he noticed anyone heading towards him. George was always in Diagon Alley trying to pull together Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Bill had left with Fleur, Charlie was busy trying to organise his next trip to Egypt, and Percy had his own apartment and only nipped back to the Burrow every now and then. The only person that remained was Hermione, and they got on each others nerves more often than not.

Hermione was sitting on Ginny's bed while the latter paced, sifting through various table plans in front of her, but eventually leaned back on the bed. "Ginny, will you just keep still for five minutes? You're making it hard to think."

"Think about what?" snapped Ginny. "The table plans? It's hardly a difficult job, is it?"

Hermione shot her a glare. "Ginny, you've managed to alienate everyone in this house! Even Harry is doing his best to stay out of the way until the wedding is over. Don't push me away too!"

Ginny reached over and snatched the nearest sheet of paper and Hermione's quill, proceeding to press it against the wall and scribble. "There. Aunt Muriel can sit with Fleur's parents. Hows that?" she snarled, and threw the paper back at Hermione, before throwing herself down on the bed beside her.

"You're stressed out," Hermione muttered. "You need to just...calm down. Everything's going to be okay."

"You have no right to talk about calming down," scoffed Ginny. "Wait until you're planning your wedding, and I'll remind you of that."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and absently gazed over at the door to Ginny's closet, which looked oddly bare. She sat up, furrowing her brow. "Where is Luna's bridesmaids dress?"

"Oh," Ginny murmured, sitting up and rubbing her forehead. "I put it away."

"Why? You've sent her an invitation, haven't you?"

"Yes," Ginny was squirming. "But I don't know if she'll want to be my bridesmaid anymore."

Hermione sat up, and grabbed hold of Ginny's shoulders, glaring into her eyes. "Ginny, you sound ridiculous. You and Luna have had some problems, of course—but she's still your friend. She loves you. I know that she wouldn't have doubted for a minute still being your bridesmaid." When she finished speaking, she pulled Ginny into a hug.

As Ginny stared over Hermione's shoulder at the space on the door where Luna's bridesmaids dress had hung, she chewed anxiously on her tongue. Hermione was wrong. After Luna found out what she had done, Ginny was sure that her best friend would never forgive her.

oOo

The Greengrass mansion was an enormous, magnificent building, and Aurora felt intimidated by it from the moment she had wandered into the gardens.

It was the biggest house she had ever seen, and she could hardly believe that a family needed to live here. From the outside, it looked as though it could've hosted a full town of people. It was made entirely from smooth white brick, and great marble pillars held up the balconies on the storeys above the ground. The gardens she strolled through were grandiose, with fine-pruned hedges and a large, glittering water fountain that stood in the centre, adorned with a marble statue of a winged cherub, clutching a bow and arrow. The cherub fluttered a little higher when it spotted Aurora, and waved it's pearly arm at her.

Aurora smiled as she drew closer to the huge double doors, imagining a younger version of her mother frolicking around these great gardens, playing with the brothers or sisters that she might have had. Aurora had no idea what relatives she was going to discover behind these iron-wrought doors, but it was too late to turn back now. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and rapped the heavy ebony door knocker.

Within minutes, the door gave a deep, jarring groan, and swung open slowly. Aurora waited patiently, but no one came to the opening. "Hello?" she called, inclining her head slightly so that she could see into the gap.

When no one answered, she took the liberty of forcing the door open a little more, and stepping through the crack.

The hallway she walked through was a wide, symmetrical space. Much like the exterior, it was painted in subtle tones of ivory, with several various paintings hanging on the wall. As she made her way through the hallway, the characters in the paintings stared down at her, judging her, raising their eyebrows and whispering to the people in neighbouring frames. Aurora ignored their buzzing voices, and entered a larger room at the end of the hallway; a huge, circular room, with a large staircase in the middle that rose and separated in the middle, where a great, seven-foot window stood. Rays of sunlight streamed through, bouncing off the crystals that hung from the lavish chandelier, causing colourful flecks of light to decorate the pale walls.

"Good morning, ma'am," a shrill voice broke Aurora's daydream. She looked to the foot of the staircase, and spotted a small house-elf, who was dressed in a pale pink tea-towel, and had her wispy white hair tied up in a yellow-spotted ribbon. "My name is Glinda. May Glinda ask your business at the Lady Greengrass's house?"

"Oh," Aurora smiled at Glinda, and headed closer to the house elf, her shoes clacking loudly on the marble floor. "Nice to meet you, Glinda." The house-elf looked slightly shocked at being spoke to so politely, but did not question it. "I'm here to see...well, I don't know, actually. I just need to speak to the owner of the house."

The house-elf blinked at her, with wide eyes that sparkled like hunks of raw-cut sapphire. "Would the ma'am care to sit in the drawing room? Glinda will go see the Lady Caroline and let her know that the ma'am is here."

Aurora nodded, and allowed the house elf to lead her through into another room. Once again, the décor consisted mostly of immaculate white furniture, huge windows draped with swathes of chalk-coloured material, and various large vases of flowers, in the palest shades of blue, pink and yellow. Aurora sat down carefully on a hard, white loveseat, and looked around the room slowly. The woman who owned this house certainly liked to keep everything colourless and clean.

After several minutes of sitting there alone, Aurora began to hear footsteps walking swiftly through the main entrance that she had previously met Glinda in. She stood up quickly, just as the lady of the house entered the drawing room, with the house-elf on her tail. "The Lady Caroline Greengrass," Glinda introduced, before backing out of the room quickly.

She was a tall woman, probably in her late thirties, but she dressed as though she was much younger. Her hair was a pale shade of brown and cut in a neat, fluffy bob, though Aurora could see flickers of grey streaking through her otherwise immaculate style. Her face was lined and crinkled in the corners of her deep green eyes, but she wore a lot of concealer and mascara to perk up her appearance. She was dressed in a smart, fitted black suit jacket, a matching knee length skirt and translucent pantyhose, making her long legs look a shade darker than the rest of her exposed skin. The heeled black shoes on her feet gave her at least four inches of height, but she looked as comfortable standing in them as if she were wearing trainers. The only hint of something other than black in her ensemble was the string of thick pearls around her skinny neck, and her matching earrings that twinkled beneath her hair.

The two stared at each other for a moment. Aurora was slightly shocked—aside from her more foreboding and immaculate appearance, the extra age in her face, and the different shade of hair, Caroline was a replica of Cordelia.

The lady of the house seemed to be thinking the same thing. After a few more moments, she stepped closer, her green eyes softening, and her trembling hands reaching out and resting on Aurora's shoulders. "Cordelia?" she whispered, her voice raspy.

Emotion flooded over Aurora suddenly, and she felt tears prickling at her eyes. Blinking furiously, she opened her mouth to reply. "She's dead," she murmured in response.

It was as though her mother had just died all over again. Caroline pulled Aurora into her embrace, and the younger girl finally let the tears pour out of her, as she breathed in Caroline's scent of flowery perfume and hairspray.

oOo

When Luna apparated into the Crouch Manor, she knew straight away that something wasn't right.

The day before, while Barty remained in bed, Luna had spent he entire day stringing Christmas decorations all over the living room—it was almost overcrowded with them, but Luna loved Christmas. There were streamers and candles, baubles and stars, and a huge Christmas tree that was adorned with glittering lights.

However, upon entering the living room, all of her hard work had been torn down.

The streamers had been yanked from their hooks on the ceiling, the pretty fairy lights had been torn from the tree, baubles in colours of green, gold, silver and red lay shattered around the carpet, along with various Christmas ornaments that Luna had adorned the windowsill, shelves and mantelpiece with. To Luna's dismay, the lovely Christmas tree had been toppled over, lying on the ground pathetically with it's branches crushed beneath the weight of the trunk. The angel that was bewitched to move and speak was sprawled out beside the tree, her halo crooked, and her face bearing an extremely disgruntled expression. As Luna stepped forward, she spoke.

"He's mad, you know!" she cried in a high pitched voice, her feathery wings shuddering at her shoulders. Luna reached down and carefully picked her up, before gently settling her on the mantle, where she shook out her skirts and adjusted her golden halo. "Destroying Christmas like this! Who would do such a thing!"

"Barty?" Luna shouted tentatively into the house. Her voice echoed from the rafters, but no one answered. When he wasn't in bed, Barty would be in the kitchen, but upon glancing in there, she discovered that it was empty.

She wandered though the house slowly, checking every bedroom and office and spare room on every floor. Everywhere was still and empty, as though no one had been in the house for days.

Eventually, she decided to enter the bedroom that had belonged to Barty's father. It was the only room that she hadn't checked, as she knew how much he disliked this particular area of the manor. Slowly, she pushed the door open, and entered.

It was another room that had been completely destroyed by what Luna could only presume was Barty's wrath. The curtains were scorched, the items that had been on the dresser were all over the floor, and the window was shattered, leaving glass all over the bed below it. Luna noticed that Barty's wand had been tossed on the floor below the window, and her first reaction was to rush over to the window and check the ground below.

No one was out there, not that she had fully expected anyone to be. Luna knew that Barty would never leave the house without his only form of protection—his wand.

She glanced over to the second door in the bedroom; the one that presumably led to the en-suite bathroom. However, upon pulling at the door handle, she discovered that it was locked.

Her stomach fluttered. Barty was on the other side of his door, she just knew it. What was wrong with him? "Barty?" she called, rattling the door handle. "Barty, I know you're in there. Open up."

There was no answer.

Luna pulled her own wand from her pocket and pointed it at the handle. She didn't want to invade Barty's privacy, but he was beginning to cause her worry. She needed to know that he was okay. " _Alohamora,_ " she said, and the lock clicked promisingly. Shoving her wand back inside her robes, she clutched the handle and pushed the door open.

At first, she thought that what she saw before her was a joke. Barty was sprawled out in the bathtub, wearing his shoes and trousers but no shirt, with one of his legs hanging over the side. The shower head that hung over the bath was running, and Luna noticed water dropping over the sides of the bath as it overfilled. "Barty, what are you doing?" she whispered, stepping forwards slowly. "Are you asleep?"

But then she saw red, and she realised.

The scream that left her throat sounded like it belonged to someone else; it was a sound that she had never heard come out of her mouth before. For several moments, she was rendered paralysed; her limbs frozen and her feet rooted to the ground. She was sure that Barty was dead.

There were long, deep gashes slashed lengthways into each of his inner forearms, and they were slowly bleeding into the bath, causing the water to be stained crimson. His skin was paler than usual, washed out and bloodless, and his heavy-lidded eyes were half open, his mouth slack.

Pills were scattered all around him—pills of various colours and shades, and there was dye from the pills smeared around his mouth. Luna choked on the tears that were thick in her throat, and pulled her feet from the ground, rushing towards him. She pressed her head to his damp chest, listening desperately for a heartbeat.

"Oh, thank Merlin," she gasped, as she heard a slow thudding, deep in his chest. She hurriedly pulled him by the shoulders into a sitting position, and climbed into the bath behind him, despite being fully clothed. His body was limp and heavy, but she managed to straighten him up so that his head hung forward. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and reached for his arms, healing them with her wand one at a time, leaving nothing but shiny red scars over the wounds. Luna then allowed one of her hands to creep towards her mouth, which she pulled open, and then commenced to shove two of her fingers into his mouth. She dug them around in the back of his throat desperately, winding her free arm tightly around his stomach, and pressing her face into his back, letting her tears stream down his skin. "Please, Barty," she begged, screwing her eyes closed. "Please don't leave me. Please don't do this."

She felt his throat vibrate on her fingers, and Luna pressed them further into his mouth. Suddenly, his entire body heaved, and Luna pulled her hand away just in time as his throat constricted, and he began to violently throw up all over himself. His body reacted shortly afterwards, and he leaned forward, continuing to vomit and pant heavily.

Luna continued to sob into his back, pressing kisses to every bit of skin there that she could reach. "Thank you," she gasped, unsure of who she was actually speaking to. "Barty, I'm so glad you're alive," she continued, while Barty choked in response.

She was so emotional, so happy, so upset at the same time. Suddenly, she felt as though she was going to vomit too, but it wasn't sick that was rising out of her throat—it was _words_. Words that she couldn't prevent, even though she tried to.

"I love you."

oOo

An hour later, Luna had managed to single-handedly clean Barty up, and assisted him up to bed. She was laid on her back beside him, with his head on her chest, while she slowly stroked his hair.

Luna was still emotional and shaken from what she had seen in the bathroom, and just listening to the man beside her breathing was extremely satisfying.

"Luna.." his voice was soft and his breath was warm on her chest.

"How do you feel?"

"My stomach hurts," he muttered, rubbing his hands across his bare stomach.

Luna bit into her bottom lip absently, wondering if they should probably go to St. Mungos. "Barty?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you...why did you do that?" she asked carefully.

Barty sighed, and buried his face into her skin. "I...I don't know. Everything is just so difficult at the moment."

Luna pointed her wand at the window, where the sun outside was still quite high. The drapes fell to the floor, plunging the room into darkness. "Get some sleep. I promise we're going to fix this," she assured him, laying her wand on the bedside table.

They were silent in the darkness for a little while, the only sound being their steady breathing.

"Luna?" Barty finally spoke.

"Hm?" she murmured, her head beginning to trail off into sleep.

He swallowed in the dark. "I love you too."


	29. Goodwill and Cheer

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

 **Authors Note:** Forgive me for this chapter being shorter than normal, but I wanted Christmas to have it's own separate chapter, despite there not being much information (the events around Christmas are more important than the actual day). Happy reading!

* * *

oOo

Christmas at the Crouch Manor hadn't exactly gone to plan, but Luna was just happy that Barty was okay.

She had crept downstairs early in the morning on Christmas morning, and quickly cleared the mess that had been created in the living room. Instead of putting everything back how it had been, she considered Barty's feelings—while the Calming Draught and his medication seemingly weren't having an effect on him now, it was inevitable that he would've reacted negatively to the over-the-top Christmas décor. So, she had vanished all of the streamers and the ornaments and the tree, choosing instead to just leave the Christmas angel perched on the mantelpiece.

Not that Luna really had much of a choice with that one. When she had reached out to move the angel, the miniature character had exclaimed loudly that she had no intention of being stored in a box during the festive day.

After making sure that the living room was clean and tidy, Luna had entered the kitchen and commenced cooking breakfast. For the sake of getting it done quicker than normal, she chose to use her wand this time. Within minutes, flour, eggs and milk were mixing together in a bowl, while a pan heated oil over the stove.

While pancakes began to sizzle in the pan and Luna absently reminiscing to Barty's failed attempt at making breakfast not so long ago, Barty wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

The sight of him tugged at Luna's heart. Barty looked oddly young; his hair, now getting quite uncontrollably long, was hanging in his eyes, which looked tired and purple-lidded. The plain grey top and pyjama trousers he was wearing were oversized, making him look skinnier than normal. But worst of all were the scars that marred Barty's pale forearms, long, jagged welts that had been healed by Luna, leaving the dark protective skin shiny and bumpy.

She bit her lip and avoided staring at them as Barty entered the kitchen and sat down at the table quietly, choosing instead to offer him a bright smile. "Good morning. Merry Christmas, Barty."

He looked up at her and gave her a strained smile, but his eyes looked sad. "Merry Christmas, Luna."

oOo

Aurora had been delighted when Caroline Greengrass had invited her to stay over the Christmas period.

Christmas Day at the Greengrass Mansion was a very quiet affair. Caroline's husband had died a very long time ago, and her youngest daughter, Astoria, had opted to spend the Christmas at the Malfoy Manor, with the boy who she was betrothed to marry. Caroline's older daughter, Daphne, was in a disagreement with her mother over the Wizarding War and where her loyalties lay, so she had too decided to flee the nest and spend Christmas elsewhere.

So it was just Caroline and Aurora sitting at either end of the long white dining table on Christmas Day, eating their dinner and sipping their wine quietly.

"It was such a surprise when you arrived, Aurora." Caroline spoke once she had pushed her plate away and leaned back in her seat. She was still wearing a smart dress suit, even though it was Christmas, only she had opted for a pale grey suit instead of the black ones that Aurora had seen her in every other day.

"How did you know who I was?" Aurora replied, taking another delicate sip of the crisp white wine that Glinda had poured her.

"You look exactly like Cordelia; how could I not? Your hair is the same lovely red colour, your eyes are just like hers. Even your voice is similar."

Aurora smiled. "I must say, I'm glad that you realised who I was. I was worried about introducing myself. Did your family and my mother have some kind of argument that caused her to flee England?" Aurora hadn't asked any intrusive questions up until this moment. She had been nervous about causing Caroline any unnecessary upset, but there were answers she needed to know.

After all, Christmas was supposed to be the season of kindness and good will. There was no better time than right now.

Caroline pressed her lips together and clapped her hands quite suddenly. Glinda jumped from around the door, and rushed forward to collect the dinnerware; snapping her knobbly fingers so that they jumped into the air and soared out of the dining room, following her into the kitchen. "Your mother told no one that she was going to leave, Aurora. In fact, we had no idea that she was pregnant with yourself at the time. We didn't know until she wrote to us once she was in Australia, but she never told us where she had gone - otherwise we would've come to find you both immediately. She was scared. She'd always been scared of the Dark Lord."

"What did he have to do with her, though?"

Caroline sighed. "It was a different time, Aurora. Most Pureblood families—including many from our own family—were fully supportive of the Dark Lord's motives. He was getting stronger day by day, and more dangerous," she paused, taking a long drink from her glass. "Cordelia and I never agreed with the notions of the Dark Lord, though our parents very much supported him. While I, on the other hand, was a lot more brave in those dark times, particularly after giving birth to Daphne, Cordelia was not. I can only imagine that after discovering that her two best friends had become Death Eaters and then discovering that she was pregnant, she crumbled and fled the country."

"Her _two_ best friends?" Aurora sat up, her interest piqued. "Was one of them Regulus Black?"

Caroline smiled wanly. "Yes, I thought that Cordelia might have told you about Regulus. He was a lovely young man, right from the moment Cordelia made friends with him. He always treat her wonderfully, and often visited in the holidays. I think our parents quite hoped that she would marry him—it would've made them very happy, to know that one of us was marrying into the ancient and most noble house of Black."

"Who was the other?"

This time, Caroline's smile faltered. "Barty Crouch—Junior. He was Regulus's friend, and I think that is the only way that they ended up becoming friends. He was nice enough, but there was something that I just didn't like about him. He had this look in his eye—like he was always thinking about something dangerous. Like a wounded animal."

"What's dangerous about a wounded animal?"

"My dear, a wounded animal is much more dangerous, because it's even more determined to survive." Caroline pressed her finely manicured fingertips together. "When she announced that he was her boyfriend, we were most disappointed. Of course, he never was her boyfriend—at least, he didn't see it that way. I think that she had lost hope in ever truly getting Regulus's attention, at least in their later years, as he was a lot more withdrawn, so she turned to Barty. Only Barty had so many of his own problems, that he was probably just using her too."

Aurora's brow was furrowed together. "I'm sorry, Caroline. I'm confused. I...I guess I came here with the thought that Regulus might be my father. But...is this Barty Crouch my father?"

Caroline was reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes, one of which she placed into her mouth. She lit the end with her wand, and took a deep drag. "I couldn't tell you, dear," she replied vacantly, leaning back further in her chair. "My dear sister took them both to her boudoir."


	30. Weddings Don't Always go to Plan

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

It was the day of Harry and Ginny's wedding, and Barty still wasn't one hundred percent better.

His mood seemed to have improved since Christmas Day, but Luna was nervous that he was starting to revert back to the Barty that she had met all those months ago. Some of the things he said and did caused her to chew her lip uncomfortably, worried that his hidden, cruel personality was just one shred away from being exposed.

Luna hadn't really wanted Barty to come to the wedding since his attempted suicide, but she also didn't want to leave him home alone. There was no way she could risk missing the wedding entirely (Ginny would _never_ forgive her) so the only thing she could do was to take him, and hope for the best.

Though, she fully expected something to go wrong. Since Christmas Day, Barty had given up on continuing to take the Calming Draught and the medication, as it was showing no visible effects. Even though Luna agreed that it seemed pointless for him to continue the treatment, she couldn't help but feel slightly downcast. The medication, whether it was working or not, showed that he was taking deliberate measures to try and change. Without it, she didn't know who or what he would become.

Barty and Luna had no sooner stepped into the vast gazebo that was erected in the field behind the Burrow, than Mrs Weasley had appeared out of nowhere and tugged violently at Luna's arm. She barely had time to whirl around and throw an apologetic look at Barty before she was being dragged into the house, leaving him stranded. Her stomach fluttered nervously; she hadn't missed the dark look that had crossed over his face as she had been pulled out his grip.

Mrs Weasley ushered Luna into the house, despite her protests. "Mrs Weasley, I really should get back to Barty..."

"Don't be silly. You're already late as it is. Ginny is _beside_ herself."

"Do I really need to come inside? I thought I should stay in the gazebo with the rest of the guests."

Mrs Weasley drew them to a halt suddenly once they were inside the living room, and clamped her hands down on Luna's shoulders. "I beg your pardon? Did you forget that you are the bridesmaid for your best friends wedding?"

Luna licked her lips tentatively. "In all fairness, Mrs Weasley, I wasn't aware that Ginny still wanted me to be her bridesmaid. After all, we haven't spoken for several weeks..."

"She still invited you, didn't she?" snapped Mrs Weasley. "Of course she wanted you to be her bridesmaid!" she began to nudge Luna towards the stairs, though she was still grumbling behind her. "Oh yes, you're very busy lately aren't you, Luna—too busy to remember your _best friends wedding!_ Maybe if you took some time away from your busy schedule with a rampant criminal then you'd be aware of the things that were going on around you!"

Luna pulled away from Mrs Weasley, before they reached the foot of the stairs. Irritation flared within her at Mrs Weasley's poor choice of words, and her bottom lip shuddered. "I didn't forget Ginny's wedding. We haven't had much contact lately—as you know," she replied stiffly.

"And you wonder why that is! Cavorting around with that maniac!"

"Barty is _ill_ ," Luna shot back. "He is not a maniac."

"He is a damned maniac and you know it. Why, if I were having it my way, he wouldn't even be here today—I mean, I know for a fact he'll be making the other guests uncomfortable! But no, Ginny had to insist that he was on the invitation, as she didn't think you'd come otherwise! I, on the other hand had other hopes—I thought you would've had the good sense to leave him locked up at that big old house where he belongs!" Mrs Weasley's voice had become erratically loud, and Luna was sure that the guests would be able to hear her through the open windows. Luna had shrunk back as Mrs Weasley commenced shouting at her as if she were one of her children, unsure what she should say. "You don't even show poor Ginny a _bit_ of consideration," continued Mrs Weasley. "My poor daughter has been running around trying to plan this wedding, which is an extremely large affair as, if you didn't know, she's marrying _Harry Potter._ Not to mention she's been worrying constantly about you and whether you're safe or if you've been murdered in your sleep! The least you could have done was say 'Merry Christmas' or ask how the wedding preparations are going, but no! All you've been doing is lounging around in his murder house all loved up with your psycho boyfriend!"

Mrs Weasley was red in the face when she finished her spiel, and the chatter outside seemed to have quietened considerably. Luna felt anger rising in her throat like vomit, as pure hatred for the woman in front of her seeped out of her pores. She rarely lost her temper—but where her loved ones were concerned, she couldn't keep it bottled in.

"If you must know, I have been working every day up until Christmas Eve," Luna hissed, keeping her voice low—unlike Mrs Weasley, she would rather have avoided a spectacle. "I _did_ try to visit Ginny previously—if you remember—but you turned me away at the door! I would've come down on Christmas Day to say hello, but when I got home on Christmas Eve, I found that Barty had tried to kill himself in the bath—so yes, I guess you could say I was a little bit preoccupied!"

A silence followed Luna's outburst, with both of the women glaring across at each other, wearing equal expressions of rage. As she realised what she had just admitted, tears began to prickle Luna's eyeballs, and Mrs Weasley's face softened, her mouth opening and closing gormlessly, like she was unsure of what to say.

"What?" a voice came from the stairs, and both Luna and Mrs Weasley tore their gazes away from each other to look up. Ginny stood on the spiral steps, blinking between the two of them.

Even though she was only wearing a satin dressing gown, Ginny looked beautiful. Her hair had been done up in a fancy updo, with no hair on her face, just a trail of auburn curls hanging down the nape of her neck. A pearl-encrusted clip secured the back of her hair, with a short white veil attached to it. When she moved, the veil sparkled, as if stars had been woven into the material. Her make-up was immaculate; her lips painted a pale, dusky pink and her eyelids adorned with shimmery shades of silver and cerulean. Ginny no longer looked like the little girl that Luna had met in her Transfiguration class in their first year. She looked like a young woman.

Before Luna could comment on her appearance, Ginny spoke again. "Luna, is that true?" Her eyes were wide, and she was fidgeting with her fingernails. Luna knew that Ginny was itching to put her thumbnail into her mouth, as she often did when she was nervous or anxious, but she was refraining from doing so—probably because of the french-tips that adorned her nails. Luna nodded in answer to her question, shooting a glance back at Mrs Weasley. The older woman was looking extremely regretful, her mouth still hanging open.

Ginny reached forward and took Luna's arm. "Come upstairs and let Fleur help you get ready," she said quietly, and Luna nodded again, stepping past Ginny to head up the stairs. As Mrs Weasley began to make her way up the stairs too, Ginny gave her a pointed look, and shook her head, silently insisting that her mother should keep her distance for now.

Up in Ginny's bedroom, which had been transformed into a dressing room, Luna sat down on the buffet in front of the dressing table. Hermione was sitting on the bed, with her own hair straightened sleekly and done up in a similar style to Ginny's, and Fleur was standing by the dressing table armed with her wand. Her own updo was an intricate mass of tiny braids, but it still looked beautiful.

As Ginny entered the room and closed the door behind her, she knelt beside Luna, blinking up at her with her dazzling, silver-lined eyes. "Luna...what happened?" she whispered, fidgeting with her nails once again.

Luna turned to look at her reflection as Fleur began to pull strands of her long hair around, clearly indecisive about what to do with her masses of thick hair. "I don't want to talk about it, Ginny. This is your day. We'll discuss it another time, okay?" she offered Ginny a positive smile in the mirror. "I'm sorry that things have been awkward, and about everything that happened during the Sunday dinner."

Ginny licked her lips carefully and returned her smile, though Luna noticed that it was a little strained. "I'm sorry too," she replied softly. "I've been...neurotic, and this whole wedding has just been a nightmare. Everything going on with you and Barty hasn't helped..." Ginny risked placing her fingernail to her bottom lip, and Fleur slapped her hand away. "Luna, I have to tell you something," she said finally, her face looking suddenly dark.

Luna turned to look at her questioningly, but Fleur intervened.

"No!" she snapped to the pair of them, pulling Ginny's thumb out of her mouth once again. "You are getting married in one hour! We do not 'av time for zis silly chit-chat! After ze wedding!" with that, she flicked her wand wordlessly at Ginny, causing her to whiz back towards the bed where Hermione was sitting, and commenced working on Luna's hair.

oOo

Just short of an hour later, Fleur's masterpiece on Luna had finished. Her make-up had been done to resemble Ginny's, but her hair had been piled elaborately on top of her head, with long tendrils hanging down either side of her face. Fleur had attached a wreath of pale blue flowers to her head, and done the same to herself and Hermione.

Ginny had dropped her satin dressing gown to the floor and had climbed into a set of provocative lacy white underwear, which consisted of a strapless bridal basque that had suspender straps, clipping to thigh-length white stockings. She was standing in the full length mirror and attaching a blue ribbon garter to her thigh, when the door suddenly burst open.

Luna could have predicted who would be on the other side, but it still came as a shock. Barty was stood there in the doorway, scanning the room wildly before his eyes settled on Luna, and his gaze softened a little. Ginny and Fleur, who were both scantily clad, screamed simultaneously, in shock while Hermione, who had taken the liberty to keep her dressing gown on, looked a little taken aback.

"What are you doing? You can't come in here! Get out!" shrieked Ginny, ducking behind the mirror to protect her modesty.

Fleur, who was also stripped down to her underwear, simply remained standing there in the middle of the bedroom, fanning her face with her hand in the aftermath of the sudden shock. She placed her other hand on her hip, clearly uncaring about a total stranger seeing her in her underwear. "Luna! Get zat pervert out of 'ere!" she snapped.

Luna jumped to her feet and began trying to usher Barty out. He raised an eyebrow at Fleur, looking at her up and down briefly. "You're not my type," he sneered.

Yes, Luna thought absently. Barty was definitely returning to his old self.

"Come on," she muttered, pushing him backwards out of the room and closing the door sharply behind her.

As she ushered Barty a little further down the corridor, she heard voices continue inside the bedroom. "I am everyone's type," Fleur said, while Ginny sniggered.

She turned to face Barty once they were out of earshot of the bedroom. "What's wrong? You can't be in here, there are girls getting undressed—"

"—not the girl I'd like to see getting undressed though," Barty interrupted, his voice full of heat. He pushed her back and pressed his hands against either side of the wall beside her, effectively trapping her. Luna gave him a weak smile.

"You seem to be in a good mood."

"I feel it," he murmured. He took one of his hands away from the wall to take a strand of her hair between his fingers. "I feel so many things since I stopped taking the Calming Draught and the medication.

"How do you feel right now?" Luna asked nervously. She remembered all too well how erratic and fast-paced his changing personality could be.

Barty pushed his body against hers and leaned down, so that his mouth was inches away from her ear. "What do you think?" she felt his arousal digging into her stomach, but she pointedly ignored it.

"I have to go back in there and get ready, Barty," Luna whispered as Barty's lips hovered precariously over hers. "You go down and get a seat in the gazebo, and I'll meet you there."

" _He's_ here," groaned Barty, just before he plunged his face into the side of her neck.

"Who is?"

"That dopey looking boy. Rolf."

"Oh...well, he did receive an invitation."

"You didn't tell me that he would be coming," Barty kissed her neck softly, sending flurries of excitement to her stomach.

"I'm sorry, Barty. I completely forgot...what with everything that's been going on."

He leaned back, and pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth before backing away. "Remember that I'm not medicated anymore, Luna," he told her. "I don't want to...I don't want to..."

"I know," Luna replied, pressing her hands to his cheeks. "I know." He pulled back from her once more, and hurried down the corridor, giving her one last wave before he disappeared down the stairs.

oOo

The wedding ceremony was a beautiful affair. It took place at around four p.m, and in the winter month, the sun was beginning to set at that time. Candles and little sparkling lights adorned the roof and walls of the vast gazebo, casting their glowing light on everything they touched. The gazebo had been set out with two long rows of chairs, and a narrow aisle down the middle, which was covered with a silver carpet.

As the bridal party waited at the end of the gazebo out of sight, a series of beautiful voices began to sing. Luna looked around wildly, wondering where the wonderful music was coming from, until she spotted a circular pond behind the space where Harry and Ron stood at the other side of the gazebo. The pond was boasting a floating ice sculpture, depicting a witch and a wizard in a loving embrace, and water streamed out of the tips of their wands and into the pond. At first, Luna thought that the singing was coming from the ice figurines, but then she noticed the shapes that were swimming clockwise under the water. Merpeople.

Behind the pond stood a group of about five women, all dressed in knee length, shimmery chiffon dresses. They had long, silver-blonde hair that draped over their shoulders, and their faces were heart-shaped and flawless. Luna assumed that these must be the Veela cousins that Ginny had previously mentioned, and smiled as they acted as a choir, joining in with the foreign song that the Merpeople provided.

Ginny nodded to the bridal party that it was time to go. Fleur was the first to walk down the aisle - she was a vision of cerulean beauty as she floated down the walkway, her pale skirts dancing around her knees. She was graceful and elegant, keeping her head firmly forward and her flowers beneath her bust. As she reached the end of the aisle, she sent a bright smile—the brightest smile that Luna had seen her wear so far—towards Bill, who sat on the front row beside his mother.

Hermione was next to go. She was a little less graceful, her cheeks flushed red as she scurried down the aisle, glancing around at the guests and grinning. She had never much enjoyed being the centre of attention.

Before Luna could follow Hermione, Ginny took her arm. "Wait, Luna," she whispered, her eyes wide.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" she asked, taking her friends hand.

Ginny was stepping from side to side, looking nervous. "Luna, I'm sorry...about what happened."

Luna smiled. "We already did this. It's _okay_. Come on, lets get you married," she tried to pull her hand away, and begin her walk down the aisle, but Ginny dug her fingers in.

"No. I'm sorry...you don't understand. This is what I need to tell you about."

Concern flooded Luna's eyes. "Ginny...surely it can wait until after you get married?"

"I sneaked into the Crouch house after you left that Sunday...I shouldn't have done it...I was angry...I was so angry..." tears were suddenly pouring out of her eyes, streaking mascara down her cheeks. "I...I got rid of his potion and his medicine...I replaced them with fakes so that he wouldn't be medicated anymore...I had to tell you...after what you said he did...Luna, I'm so sorry!" she babbled, and tried to lean forward to pull her friend into a hug.

But Luna stepped back smartly. Her face had slackened; it was blank like a canvas, completely emotionless. Every word that Ginny had just said was vibrating around her skull, slowly adding to the unfinished puzzle that had been Barty's recent behaviour.

It was her fault. Barty's medication had stopped working because he'd stopped taking it, though not by choice. Because Ginny had taken it away from him.

"Luna..." whispered Ginny, her face full of sorrow and regret.

But Luna could feel nothing but complete anger, though she was careful not to show it. She shook her head at Ginny, her eyes wide, and turned her back.

As she walked down the aisle towards the rest of the wedding party at the other end, she barely noticed everyone around her. She knew that they were watching her, probably judging her and her relationship with Barty, but she didn't care. Once she reached the end, and stood beside Fleur and Hermione, she spotted Barty on the very back row.

She could see that maniacal glint in his eye that hadn't fully been there for such a long time. He was turning into that monster again. All because Ginny, in her bid to try and change Luna's opinion of him, had taken away his treatment.

No movement came from the end of the gazebo for several moments, and Luna half expected that Ginny had decided not to go through with the wedding. However, within a few minutes, she emerged from the lip of the gazebo, and began walking slowly down the aisle.

Even though she was severely angry with her, Luna couldn't deny that she looked exquisite. She had quickly wiped away the mascara streaks, and her evidence of crying could be passed off as tears of happiness, as she was smiling wanly at Harry, who was dabbing at his own eyes beneath his glasses. She looked like a swan; her floor length, lace dress hugged her figure perfectly, flaring out at the knees and leading into a long, feathery train, and the veil had been pulled over her face to slightly obscure her eyes. She was a vision of beauty.

As she reached the front of the gazebo and stood in front of her soon-to-be husband, she offered Luna a quick, apologetic smile.

But as Luna gazed out at the man on the back row; the man who had gone from a sinking depression to a familiar unstable mania in just a few days, Luna had no intention of returning the smile.


	31. Barty's Relapse

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

After the marriage ceremony, the gazebo had been transformed. White-clothed tables had burst out of thin air, and the chairs that had previously been laid out in neat lines were now surrounding the circular tables. A large space had been cleared in the middle of the gazebo, and the Veela cousins were singing delightfully, surrounded by the dancing guests.

Luna hadn't particularly wanted to stay for the reception after Ginny's pre-marriage confession, but she didn't want anyone else to be aware of what had happened just yet—especially not Barty. Luna didn't even want to think about what Barty would do if he found out what Ginny had done. So, she had decided to remain at the wedding party for a little while, with the hope that she might get the opportunity to socialise with some of her old friends.

However, socialising wasn't looking particularly promising, as Luna and Barty were sitting at a table to themselves. It was as though there was a permanently bad smell around them, as people seemed to be deliberately avoiding the area where they were sitting. In fact, people were actually _standing_ in order to avoid sitting down in the only remaining seats. It made Luna quite sad, to know that her other friends from Hogwarts didn't appear to want anything to do with her anymore.

All of her friends besides Ginny, that was. Every now and then, the bride would look over at Luna desperately, her doe-like eyes full of sorrow. She seemed to know better than to come over and try to speak to Luna though, and Luna was thankful that she was keeping her distance. She was still unsure about what she was supposed to do with the information, but she did know that she couldn't bear to even look at Ginny right now.

Barty didn't seem quite as perturbed about their lack of company as Luna was. He wasn't looking anywhere but at Luna, and was sitting extremely close to her, with his arm slung over the back of her chair.

"You look great in that dress, you know," he purred against her ear, his breath tickling her skin.

"Thank you," she replied quietly, though she wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying. Instead, she was focused on a table just ahead of theirs, where a group of her old friends sat. Ron and Hermione were chatting amiably with Rolf, Dean Thomas, Sean Finnigan, Hannah Abbott, and Neville Longbottom. A pang of remorse flurried across her heart, and she realised that she longed to be sitting at that table, laughing with Neville and chatting about school. She missed Neville's friendship terribly—this was the first time she had seen him since the one awkward date they had been on after the war.

"Why are you staring at that lump?" Barty asked suddenly, breaking Luna's train of thought. His voice had gone from silky and seductive, nursing the purse of her ear with compliments, to harsh and cold. His hand left the back of her chair and flattened against her lower back, causing her to flinch. She turned her attention to him quickly.

"He's just a friend from school, Barty," Luna assured him. "Don't you...don't you remember him?"

Barty squinted at Neville, apparently unfazed that Neville kept glancing back, his face glowing redder and redder. "Of course. That's Neville Longbottom."

A sudden surge of realisation washed over Luna. Barty, under the disguise of Alastor Moody, had upset Neville by using the Cruciatus Curse in front of him in their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Also under the disguise of Alastor Moody, he had used Neville by his own means to help Harry win the Triwizard Tournament in order to bring back Lord Voldemort. But worst of all, Barty had assisted in torturing his parents into insanity. Alice and Frank Longbottom lay like vegetables in St. Mungos at that very moment.

A lump formed in Luna's throat. She could tell that Neville was thinking the same thing, and wondering why on earth Luna, who was supposed to be one of his best friends, would sit with Barty hanging off of her right in front of him.

For a brief moment, Luna wondered the same thing.

She shook the thought out of her head straight away. She had made her choice, and had chosen to stay with Barty. He was practically a child when that event happened; he'd been sucked into the dark side and their dark ways because of the person that his father had made him into. Besides that, he wasn't the same unstable person now. He had help. He was getting better.

At least, he _had_ been getting better, before Ginny had evaporated his real potion and discarded his medication. She looked up at Barty, whose brown eyes were bearing a familiar manic look that she only associated with trouble. A smirk was playing on his lips, as he stared over at Neville. Whatever was going on in his mind right now was all thanks to Ginny.

There was a sudden shift of chairs, and Luna noticed that Neville had stood up. There were tears in his eyes, his face was the colour of a plum, and his fists were balled. Before anyone could stop him, he had charged in the direction of the house.

Luna stood up too, with the intent of running after him. She felt terrible, even though she hadn't actually done or said anything to Neville. She knew how he must be feeling and what he would be thinking, and she knew she had to say something to him. She didn't know what, but she had to do something. However, before she could head towards the Burrow, Barty grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back into her seat.

"What are you doing?" she asked, staring at him with her eyes wide. "I have to go to him, Barty. He's my friend."

Barty stood up. "Don't worry about it. I'll go talk to Longbottom."

"You—but why?" Luna panicked.

"Shut up, Luna," muttered Barty. "Just stay here." Barty turned away from the table they were occupying, and stalked off after Neville, not looking back at Luna.

Luna looked around the wedding party, feeling worried. Strangely enough, no one else seemed to have noticed that Barty had rushed off after Neville. The guests that were sat at Neville's table had all returned to chatting, and other guests were either doing the same, or dancing.

She rapped her fingertips loudly on the tabletop, her mind running amok. Why had Barty tried to take the high ground here, and run after him? What did he want? She remembered the smirk on his face, and the painful look that had marred Neville's expression. She thought of his parents in St. Mungos, and suddenly, she couldn't get the vision of Barty torturing his parents out of her head.

If he was medicated, none of this would have happened. He would have sat here, probably still a little bit sarcastic and irritated at various guests - particularly Rolf, and eventually Neville, if he found out that he and Luna had been on their one date. But he would've been slightly vague; he wouldn't really be paying much attention.

In fact, if Barty had been medicated, he probably wouldn't have even wanted to come to the wedding, and he would have reluctantly allowed Luna to go alone.

She clenched her fists, trying not to envision herself rushing over to Ginny and pulling her hair out of it's updo, and stood up. She didn't care that Barty had told her not to—she needed to go and make sure that both Neville and Barty were alright. She jumped up from her seat, and started strolling towards the Burrow.

However, she didn't get too far. As her mind was flooded with thoughts, she didn't see where she was walking, and she crashed into someone's chest. She felt immediately grateful; Barty had rushed back down here. She didn't even care that they were stood in the middle of the wedding party, and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

But she quickly realised that her arms didn't have to stretch as high as they normally would, and when she breathed in, the person in front of her didn't smell familiar. Luna pushed him away, and her eyes met the lazy grey ones of Rolf Scamander.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, and looked around. Hermione, Hannah and Ron were staring at them, eyebrows raised, but Barty wasn't around—thankfully.

Rolf raised his hands in surrender. "Woah, you crashed into me," he replied defensively, but his eyes softened. "Are you okay, Luna?"

"No."

"Luna?" the voice that Luna heard almost made her want to sink into the ground. She turned around, and noticed Ginny coming towards her, hoisting up the skirts of her wedding dress. "What's going on?"

" _Nothing_ ," Luna almost spat, turning away from Ginny almost as quickly as she had looked at her. "I just...I need to go find him..."

Ginny tried to grab her hand, but she pulled it away quickly, and ran into the house.

oOo

Neville was in Percy's bedroom when Barty burst in. He smirked upon noticing that this was the same room where he had first met Luna, all those months ago.

Neville was perched on the edge of the bed, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his dress shirt. "What do you want?" he asked, avoiding Barty's eye.

"Just to see how you are, Longbottom. I saw you rush out of the wedding party, and I gathered that it was because of me."

"You gathered correctly."

"You don't seem too well," Barty sneered, and sat down heavily next to Neville.

Neville's eyes travelled to the sleeves of Barty's shirt, where the dark scars were exposed on his wrists. Upon realising that Neville had noticed, Barty pursed his lips and yanked the sleeves down roughly. "Speak for yourself," Neville murmured, looking away.

Barty reached forward and grabbed Neville by the scruff of the neck. Why wasn't the boy angry? Why wasn't he lashing out, trying to cause Barty deliberate harm? Instead, Neville just glared back at Barty with his tear-stained eyes. "That was rude, wasn't it?" Barty hissed. "You shouldn't point out such personal things..."

"I'm not scared of you, Crouch," Neville spat back, but tears were welling up in his eyes once again.

"Really? Is that why you're crying?"

"I'm not crying over _you!_ " Neville shouted. "I'm crying for Luna!"

Barty loosened his grip on Neville. "Luna?"

"Yes, Luna," Neville shoved Barty back, and the ex-Death Eater fell onto the floor, glaring dangerously up at Neville. "It's not fair, that she has to deal with this. She's too kind, too pure—so kind that she feels like she has to help you. She would never have fallen for you if she didn't thank that she had to _fix_ you!"

Barty let out a deep growl and lunged at Neville, shoving him back onto the bed. There was a flash of silver, in which he had pulled something sharp—a small kitchen knife—out of his pocket, and pushed it against Neville's neck. "Do you _want_ to end up like Mum and Dad, Longbottom?" he snarled.

"Barty!" a high pitched scream erupted from the doorway. Barty whirled his head around, spotting Luna at the door. Tears were spilling down her face, her hair falling out of it's style, and her bridesmaids flowers hanging limply by her side. Ginny was stood a little way behind her, gaping at the scene with Barty released Neville immediately, and slowly stepped away from the bed. "What are you doing?" she gasped, and the two girls rushed past him and to Neville.

She grabbed both of his hands and hauled him to his feet, checking to make sure that Barty hadn't cut his neck. "I wasn't actually going to hurt him," Barty muttered, running a hand through his hair. "We were just having a chat."

A sudden cracking sound whipped through the air. All of the stress and frustration had finally become enough for Luna, and she had slapped Barty across the face.

For what seemed like hours, the four people in Percy's bedroom stared at each other, utterly frozen. A red mark began to slowly appear on Barty's face, and eventually, he was the first one to speak.

"It's okay," he said, his voice sounding unusually strangled. "I hit you, so you hit me. We're even."

Neville clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles cracked. "You _hit_ her?" he yelled, rushing forwards. Ginny grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

"It was a long time ago," Luna replied quietly, keeping her eyes on Barty. "I think we should go."

"You're not leaving!" Neville shouted. "You...you can't go anywhere with him, not at the minute."

"I think Neville's right, Luna," Ginny agreed, though her voice was quiet. Luna's eyes snapped over to Ginny quickly, full of resentment.

"You don't get to have a say!" she yelled.

Ginny opened and closed her mouth, and Luna was reminded absently of the same expression Mrs Weasley had pulled just earlier that day. Before she could get out any words, however, Barty had crumbled to the floor at Luna's feet, and she was rendered speechless.

"Barty?" Luna mumbled, reaching down to pull him to his feet. He sat there limply, his limbs hanging heavily like a ragdoll, staring at the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice empty. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." he tailed off, every breath an apology. Before long, he was clamping his hands over his ears, and curling onto the ground in a fetal position, screaming the words. Suddenly, he had pulled the knife he was holding towards his throat, and was digging the blade into his skin.

"No!" Luna yelled, and she seized the knife out of his hands, throwing it towards Neville, who pocketed it. Barty curled up tighter. "I need to take him to his Healer," Luna babbled suddenly, panicking. She hadn't experienced Barty in this completely broken state, and her eyes were beginning to fill with tears, as she struggled to comprehend just how she was meant to help him.

"Oh, Merlin," Ginny gasped, staggering backwards until she fell onto the bed, her hands clapped over her mouth. "Oh...I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..." her apologies melted into the ones that Barty was howling, and Neville looked at her, confusion spreading across his face.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, grasping her by the shoulders.

Tears streamed down her face once again, and her hands trembled. "I did this to him. I swapped his medication and potion for fakes...I wanted to get rid of him so that Luna could go back to normal..." she dissolved into sobs, unable to speak anymore.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Barty stopped shrieking. He sat, bolt upright, glaring over at her.

"Barty," Luna breathed, taking his face in her hands. "Barty, forget about it for now—"

"— _YOU DID THIS TO ME?"_ the screech that came out of Barty's mouth sounded unnatural. There was raw red fire in his eyes, and he tore himself out of Luna's arms and charged towards Ginny.

" _STUPEFY!"_ Neville yelled suddenly. He had brandished his wand when no one was looking, and crimson light burst from the tip of his wand and hit Barty in the chest.

For a moment, Luna thought the spell hadn't worked, as Barty stood stock still, staring blankly at Neville and Ginny. But then his body crumpled, and he fell with a crash to the ground. Luna rushed over to him, taking in his slumped form; eyes half-closed, a hand over his chest, and his mouth slack.

"I'm taking him to the Healing Clinic," Luna spoke breathlessly. "Before he wakes up."

"I'll come with you," Neville told her, helping her drag Barty into a sitting position.

"You don't have to."

"I will too," Ginny butted in, her voice still thick with tears. When Luna shot her a dark look, she shrank back.

"It's okay," Neville assured Luna. "I'm your friend. I'm coming to support you."

As Neville and Luna prepared for apparition, she looked over at her friend, eyes glittering. "Why do you want to help him? After what he did to your parents?"

Neville smiled weakly. "I've learned to forgive Barty and the Lestranges for what they did to my mum and dad, Luna. Sure, it was a bit of a shock to see him today, but I forgive him nonetheless. I know there is a reason for what he did, and maybe one day he'll tell me. But I know you wouldn't put your trust in him if he was truly evil."

oOo

Luna was slightly out of breath when she had finished telling the doctor everything that had happened over Christmas, not leaving out a thing. Neville stroked her arm soothingly beside her, occasionally glancing over to the sofa in Doctor Babar's office, where they had laid Barty's sleeping form.

"Well, that certainly has been an interesting series of events," Doctor Babar replied once Luna had finished speaking. "I must first offer my apologies—after I received an owl from John Dawlish, I did make plans to make a trip out to visit Barty, but a few other things got in the way."

"Will you be able to help him again, Doctor?" Luna asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes. "Can you get his medication sorted out again?"

"The Calming Draught will be easy, of course," Doctor Babar said, waving his hand. "But the medication is a bit of a different matter. A person shouldn't immediately stop taking that medicine, as it can cause slightly drastic side effects. For example, I believe that Barty's lapse of depression and attempted suicide may have been partially due to how quickly his serotonin levels dropped when he stopped taking it." Doctor Babar paused to take some notes.

"What do you suggest?"

"Well, I think...I think that it might be safer for...everyone...for Barty to spend some time alone while he is being re-weaned onto the medication." Doctor Babar adjusted his glasses, looking over at Luna. "I know this might be a little difficult, Miss Lovegood..."

"I can't _leave_ him," Luna told the doctor, feeling quite panicked. Neville clutched at her hand. "You don't understand, I _promised_ that I wouldn't leave him again. I _promised_."

"I understand," Doctor Babar responded. "But it's in everyone's best interests. I also think that for your own mental state, you should consider spending some time without Barty. Looking after someone who is this psychologically damaged can have quite the strain on a young person."

Luna rubbed her forehead and leant back in her chair.

"I think he's right, Luna," Neville agreed quietly.

"For now, I'm going to recommend Barty a daily double dose of the Calming Draught once again. We will start him off on seventy-five milligrams of his medication, and then slowly build it back up to three-hundred. I also think that it might be a good idea to admit Barty for a week."

"Admit?" Luna asked. "What do you mean, admit?"

Doctor Babar licked his lips. "Luna, as you know, this Healing Clinic isn't just any Healing Clinic. It's a Healing Clinic specifically devoted to helping mentally ill witches and wizards. Just an hour away from here there is a psychiatric unit that is paired with this clinic. I spend at least two hours a day over there, so I would be seeing Barty daily for therapy."

"Th... _therapy?_ " spluttered Luna. She knew without Barty even having to be awake that he would _hate_ the idea of being locked up in a _unit_ , surrounded by people that had their own problems. He would hate being trapped. It would remind him of being in Azkaban. "No. No, I can't let him go there."

"With all due respect, Miss Lovegood, I don't think you have much of a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"I've requested for Barty to spend a week in the unit. With your consent as the person who cares for him, Barty will be admitted there as an informal patient, which means he will be given much more lenient treatment and will definitely be allowed out before the weeks end, if not before. However, if you disagree, it's in my personal interest as his doctor that he _should_ be there. I have full power to section Barty to the unit because of his current mental crisis, and that would mean that he could be looking at...at least a month of rehabilitation in the unit, with a much more hands-on approach from the Healers there, meaning he would have a lot less freedom."

Luna blinked at Doctor Babar, stupefied. "So I don't really have a choice, do I? Barty is going to have to go there regardless."

Doctor Babar looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, Luna. But you must know that it is for the best—for his health. You can come and visit him as many times as you like during the week."

Luna looked over at Barty, feeling terrible. On one hand, she knew that it was the right thing to do. Barty would be surrounded by Healers and the nice doctor, and they all would know how to look after him properly. He would have treatment, proper help, someone to rush to him in an emergency. There was a good chance that he would come out of the other side of the week feeling a lot better.

But on the other hand, she was terrified. She didn't want to leave him alone in that place. Since they had grown close, Barty had established a connection with her on a level of which he practically didn't want to leave her side. He attached himself to her from the moment they met after work, and didn't let her go until he left again the next day. If he woke up and Luna wasn't there beside him, there was no telling how he would react. He needed her.

And frankly, Luna needed him, too.

But she knew what she had to do.

"Okay," she replied thickly, brushing away a tear that threatened to fall from her eye. "Okay, I'll sign him into your care as an informal patient."

Doctor Babar smiled gently. "You're making the right decision, Luna."


	32. Bear My Pain

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

"Tick-tock, goes the cuckoo clock."

Barty wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and scream. Three days spent in this insufferable place was already three days too long, and he was ready to walk out. However, doing that wasn't really an option.

"Tick-tock, goes the cuckoo clock."

Doctor Babar was helpful enough, and his daily therapy sessions did seem to be having an impact on Barty—though, he did also put that down to the fact that he was taking his medication and Calming Draught once again. Even though he was brimming with stress and irritation at the new world around him, his mind was filled with that blissful fogginess.

"Tick-tock, goes the cuckoo clock."

"Will you just shut up?" Barty snapped suddenly, causing the grey-haired woman ahead of him to jolt her face in his direction and blink. She had been watching the big wooden cuckoo clock in the recreation room for the last fifteen minutes, and repeating her little rhyme with every minute that passed.

Other patients looked up from what they were doing and gaped over at Barty, as if they were insulted that he had broken the woman's song. Before any of them could respond, however, a sharp knock on the glass of the open door interrupted their thoughts.

Doctor Babar stood there with his clipboard, smiling around jovially at the patients. "Barty, would you like to come for your session?"

Barty tried to prevent himself from mouthing what Doctor Babar was saying as the words left his lips. For the last three days, Doctor Babar appeared at the recreation room and said those same nine words to Barty, at exactly ten past one. He said the same thing to other patients, but Barty's appointment was always at strictly ten past one.

He grunted his response, and climbed from the armchair, commencing to follow Doctor Babar out of the recreation room.

As he followed Babar down the hallway and towards the offices at the back of the ward, Barty contemplated just how much he despised this place. He hated the structured way that each day panned out. He had breakfast at eight a.m., medication at nine. Group therapy followed at ten thirty, an hour long session of pain in which Barty was forced to listen to the other men and women who were confined to the ward complain about their various issues. He would then sit with the rest of the patients in the recreation room until twelve sharp, when lunch would be served, and then his appointment with Doctor Babar followed at ten past one. At three, visitors could come to the ward, and then at five dinner was set out. He had medication again at nine p.m., even though he was adamant he didn't need assistance sleeping, and then lights were out at ten.

Barty despised the structure and the way that it was almost impossible to not watch the clock and wait for the next event to occur. He longed for the boredom that came with working in the Administration Department, and sorting through Stamford's seemingly endless pile of records to organise.

When they entered the office, Barty took his seat while Doctor Babar sat down behind the desk, flipping a page over on his clipboard. Barty recognised the movements that Babar's hand made as he wrote his name, and sighed.

"Is something bothering you today, Barty?" Doctor Babar asked, pushing his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. Barty resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"You mean more than every other day?" As he leaned back in his chair, he cast his eyes at the various frames that littered Babar's back wall. Some had pictures of children and adults that Barty could only assume were members of the Doctor's family, grinning widely at the camera, but other larger ones held important looking certificates, with swirling signatures at the bottom.

"You seem agitated. Is there something on your mind?"

"At the moment," Barty purred. "I wonder if it might be more appropriate for you to take down some of those frames. It's starting to look a little cluttered up there. Alternatively, you could have taken more care to make sure that you line up the frames neatly. You have a total of ten frames there, and if you were to have your pictures and certificates in a neat three-by-three square, you should lose one."

A trace of a smile crossed Babar's face. "Does it bother you that my pictures aren't entirely straight?"

Barty leaned forward, trying to match Babar's stance. "I would have thought it would bother you."

"On the contrary," Babar continued. "I am much more interested in just looking at the pictures and reminiscing on the memories that they hold, instead of how they are portrayed on my wall."

Barty leaned back again, and folded his arms. "I see."

"Can we talk about Ginevra Weasley today, Barty?"

The name made Barty want to throw his fist straight through Babar, but the Calming Draught in his veins held back his urges. Instead, he settled for giving the doctor a dark glare, his eyes narrowed. "Ginevra Weasley will burn in hell."

"That's a little dark, Barty. I would like us to try something new, today."

"And what is that?"

"Imagine for now, that you were in Ginevra's shoes. Close your eyes, that's right. Truly _imagine_ that you have no intimate connection with Luna—instead, you are just a very close friend. Are you imagining that?"

"Yes," Barty muttered. Even though he would rather not co-operate with Babar, there was little else to do in this hospital.

"Okay. Now picture someone else coming into her life—someone who had done many bad things in the past. Even though you know you should trust Luna, you can't trust this person. You're so angry with this person, so angry that you are willing to do _anything_ to get your friend back.

"Now open your eyes."

Barty cracked his eyes open, Doctor Babar sliding back into his eyes. "So, considering yourself in Ginevra's shoes, how do you feel now?"

Images flooded back into Barty's mind—sliding a sharp blade across the fleshy skin of his inner arms, tipping bottles of pills into his throat and choking them down. The darkness that he had felt every day, right up until he had caused the enormous scene at the wedding. All of that and more was Ginny's fault, and he wasn't going to see otherwise.

"I hate her," he replied slickly. "And if I ever get my hands on her, I will kill her."

oOo

Three days after the wedding found Luna unceremoniously sectioned to Rolf Scamander's flat in Diagon Alley.

She wanted to be anywhere _but_ here, but nowhere else was openly available. She couldn't bear the thought of being alone in the Crouch Manor, where every room and object reminded her of Barty. Neville had originally said she could come stay with him, but Augusta Longbottom had shown an obvious dislike at Neville bringing the girl-who-was-shacked-up-with-a-criminal home. Going back home to her house in Ottery St. Catchpole was a possibility, but it was another house full of memories that Luna would rather avoid.

Staying at the Burrow was never going to happen. Luna had no desire to be around Ginny or Mrs Weasley, and she was sure that Mrs Weasley didn't want Luna around, either.

So, she had reluctantly accepted Rolf's invitation, even though she knew that it would rot Barty to the core if he knew.

But Barty was sick, and that was the most important thing at that moment.

When she woke up for the third time in Rolf's bed, she stretched out her arms and legs, feeling thankful that she had a comfortable place to sleep in. Rolf was sleeping on the couch, even though he had previously made a jokey comment about sharing the bed with her.

Today was the day that they were due to go back to Ottery St. Catchpole to start back on the _Quibbler_ , as they had a post-Christmas edition to get started on. However, the thought of working on anything made Luna's insides churn. She wanted nothing more than to burrow herself further into warmth of the bedding.

It seemed like all she had done since the wedding was lay in the bed and think about Barty. She had a hundred things to consider, but everything led to the same conclusion.

Hours had been spent imagining the bad things that Barty had done in his life, from torturing Neville's parents and then trying to fight with Neville at the wedding, to how he had murdered his father in cold blood and transfigured his body into a bone so that he couldn't be found. But even when Luna thought about the slap that Barty had whipped across her face and the way that he used to speak to her, his honeyed voice full of evil and malice, she knew that she couldn't love him any less.

Barty was an unfixable stain on her heart; nothing that he did would make her feelings for him decrease. He was tattooed on her soul, and even if she wanted to, there was nothing she could do to make him leave. Every night as she drifted off to sleep, she dreamt of his beguiling brown eyes, and his rough hands sliding all over her body...

Rolf did his best to distract her, even though Luna wasn't entirely sure she wanted a distraction. He seemed to be relishing the time that he was spending with her, choosing to burst into the bedroom every morning at seven a.m., throwing open the curtains and preparing her for a new day.

On that third particular morning, Rolf seemed even more upbeat. "Come on Luna, time to get up," he chirped, trying to tug the duvet away from her. She clung to it, groaning from her pit. "First day at work!"

An image of the glum printing room under her house, complete with Rolf and his poor attempts at small talk, popped into Luna's mind, and she instantly began to feel a migraine coming on. "Oh, Merlin. Rolf, I can't..."

"But it's the _Quibbler_ , remember. Your lifelong hopes and dreams."

"When have I ever said that?" she mumbled, unable to remember making such a brass statement. However, she decided to let it slide. "Rolf, I'm not feeling too well. Why don't you go and make a start, and I'll start right again next week." It was nearly the weekend, and Luna couldn't see the point in starting on any day but Monday.

Rolf chewed his lip for a minute and leaned against the windowsill, deep in thought. "Okay," he finally said. "We'll start on Monday."

Luna noticed the emphasis on the word 'we'll', and she tried to repress a sigh. She had hoped that Rolf would dash off to work for the day, leaving her to mooch around his flat whilst wrapped up in the duvet before deciding to properly get up. She had made the decision during the night to escape Rolf's flat and go to visit Barty at the hospital today.

Everytime that she suggested doing so to either Rolf or Neville, who had started taken the time to come out and visit her every day since the wedding, they had both shook their heads sternly. They didn't think that it was a good idea to go and see Barty so quickly—it wasn't good for either her or him, according to Neville. He needed time to get better, and while Luna wholeheartedly agreed with that statement, she couldn't help but miss him terribly, and she knew that Barty would be longing to see her.

However, with Rolf choosing to remain at home too, she knew she wouldn't get the chance to. He and Neville would quickly manage to convince her otherwise, if she told them she was going to head out to the hospital.

"I can't have you staying here in my flat on your own, can I?" he continued, grinning.

"Why not?" Luna replied, burying her head under the sheets.

"Well, clearly you're depressed about the whole wedding thing," Rolf went on. "So, we're going to spend the day together. We'll have loads of fun—we can go do some shopping, I bet you haven't been shopping for ages, and maybe get an ice cream. _Oh_ , and we'll go to the Leaky Cauldron! There's this witch whose been staying there, she's a good friend of Hannah Abbott, and I met her with Neville when we were there a couple of days ago. She's from this weird school in Australia, you have to meet her."

Luna wasn't really listening to him, but she got the general gist of what he was saying. He wanted to go out and spend the day in Diagon Alley—just something else that made Luna want to sink further into the mattress. However, she was tired. So tired in fact, that she didn't have the energy to argue with him, so she just shrugged.

She knew that Rolf was just trying to be kind to her and make her happy in this dark time, and Luna wasn't about to pass up on kindness.

oOo

Just a few hours later, Luna had been dragged out of the warmth and security of Rolf's flat, and was sitting in a dark, musty corner of the Leaky Cauldron with Rolf. Hannah Abbott was flitting around, picking up glasses and plates from tables, but every now and then she shot a smile over to Rolf and Luna.

After sitting there in the midst of awkward small talk for a few moments and sipping from their mugs of Butterbeer, the door to the Leaky Cauldron was pushed open.

A girl about Luna's age scurried in, folding up the umbrella she had been carrying, and brushing down her coat. She was an athletic looking girl, with tanned skin and curly auburn hair, which she had tied back in a ponytail. She grinned at Hannah, who rushed over to her and wrapped her arms around the new customer.

"You look great! Did you have a good Christmas with the Greengrasses?" Hannah asked, before glancing over her shoulder towards the bar. Luckily, Tom wasn't around, so she could get away with a little slacking.

"Just the one Greengrass, in the end," the redhead replied. Luna noticed that she had a heavy Australian accent, which probably explained her summery tan and glowing complexion, which was a stark contrast to Luna's pale, translucent skin. "Aunt Caroline's daughters didn't stay for Christmas. But we had a lovely time—and I found out quite a lot."

"I'll finish up here then take my break!" Hannah replied excitedly. "Rolf's over there—go sit down and I'll bring you a Butterbeer over."

The girl nodded and hurried over to the table where Rolf and Luna sat. Rolf greeted her enthusiastically, and she pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly flushed. She turned her attention to Luna.

"Oh, hi?" she greeted, slightly questioningly, and then looked at Rolf.

"Oh, this is Luna," Rolf explained. "Luna Lovegood—she's a friend of ours from school. She's the one who..." his voice tailed off, and a look of realisation crossed the redheads features.

"The one with the...criminal," she finished, but she was grinning. "Well, I don't care about that. Nice to meet you, Luna - my name is Aurora Greengrass." She sat down at the table, and she began to explain just who she was, and why she had come over from Australia.

As Aurora was talking amiably, Luna noticed Neville enter the Leaky Cauldron from the Diagon Alley entrance, and sat down next to Luna. Shortly after, Hannah threw her apron over the bar, took one last quick check around the bar to make sure that no one was waiting on drinks, and came over to join the small group, a tray of Butterbeer in her hand. She placed the tray down on the table before sitting next to Neville, and everyone reached out for a drink.

Luna was quite astonished by Aurora's story, especially about the school she went to in Australia. Rolf was grinning at Luna knowingly—he had told her she would enjoy being out of the flat today, and he was right.

"Wow, Aurora," Luna said when Aurora finally finished talking. "You've had quite the interesting life...I'm extremely sorry about your mother, though." She reached across the table and placed her hand over Aurora's. "I lost my mother too—I understand your pain."

Aurora smiled wanly, her eyes glistening earnestly. "Thanks, Luna." She sat back in her seat, and began to sip on her Butterbeer, blinking back the tears that Luna knew she was trying to prevent from spilling.

Neville turned his attention to Luna. "How are you, Luna? Did you sleep okay?" Luna resisted the urge to laugh. Neville had asked her the same thing every day since the wedding—it was as though he thought Luna really did need looking after.

"Better than ever," she replied honestly, thinking of Rolf's comfortable bed back at his flat.

"Have you thought any more about going to see Barty?" he continued, trying to sound indifferent, though Luna knew otherwise. She knew that when she told him she did want to go see Barty soon, both he and Rolf would immediately launch into a hundred reasons as to why she shouldn't go to the hospital.

"Barty?" Aurora interrupted suddenly, before Luna could reply. "Did you say Barty?"

"Why do you ask?" Luna replied quickly, her eyebrows furrowing.

"What's his surname?"

Luna looked at Rolf questioningly. When Aurora had expressed awareness that Luna was with 'a criminal', Luna expected her to know just who that criminal was. But when Rolf shook his head, dumbstruck, she realised that Rolf hadn't given out any names. "Crouch," she responded slowly. "Crouch Junior."

Aurora sunk her face into her hands, and Hannah was the first to jump and begin rubbing her back soothingly. "Aurora? What's wrong?"

After a few minutes, she composed herself, and sat up straight. "Aunt Caroline told me a few things about my mother, and who my potential father was," she started, taking a deep breath. "It turns out that there are _two_ potential fathers. Regulus Black and...Barty Crouch Junior."

Luna was the first to gasp, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Of course, Barty had been young and reckless once, and she knew that before he had done so many bad things, he was probably a normal guy, who had a girlfriend. But Luna _never_ suspected that he might be someone's father—especially not someone who was about the same age as her.

It suddenly dawned on Luna just how big the age gap between them was. Even if Barty had only been sixteen or seventeen when he had gone to bed with Aurora's mother, it still made him old enough to be her father.

She stood up from her seat at the table suddenly, feeling quite dizzy.

"Are you okay?" Aurora asked, standing up too. "I'm sorry—I know that must be quite a shock. But it's not definitively Barty—like I said, it's between him and someone else."

"I just need...I just need to get some air," she mumbled, pushing past Aurora and heading over to the back door. She blundered out into the cold behind the Leaky Cauldron, and leant against the wall, gulping down deep breaths of the icy winter air. She knew that Rolf, Neville, Hannah and Aurora would have instantly dived into a lapse of chatter about what they had just found out.

Luna couldn't bear it. They had already been through so many trials, and now this new problem was arising. She knew that Barty wouldn't be able to stomach this new information, particularly when he was sitting so vulnerable and alone in the hospital.

Her first thought was to apparate to the hospital and wait until visiting hours, then tell Barty everything she had just learned about Aurora Greengrass. But she knew that doing just that could be potentially dangerous.

Barty needed to concentrate on getting better, not struggling to comprehend this new information. So for now, Luna would bear this new pain for him.


	33. Diagon Alley Disaster

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

After six days of being locked in the hospital ward, Barty was almost begging Doctor Babar to let him go back into normal civilisation. He could no longer cope with the constant shrieking, laughing and repetitive chanting that seemed to echo around the walls of the Unit.

If he hadn't been crazy before, he certainly was just six days after his admission.

"I'm ready," Barty told Doctor Babar during their sixth therapy session of the week. "I swear I'm ready. I'm feeling a lot better, honestly," it wasn't exactly true. Staying in the ward made him feel a hundred times worse—not to mention he hadn't seen Luna at all. He had thought she would visit him, but he was apparently mistaken. Despite this, he wasn't going to let on to Doctor Babar that he wasn't feeling as fantastic as he made out—being anything less than utterly happy was surely going to keep him locked away for another week, and he didn't think he could handle it. "The medication is working, and I'm pretty sure I can go back to work. My head feels completely _empty_ here. I need something to do — I need to go back to normal."

Doctor Babar was sitting with his fingertips pressed together beneath his chin, listening to Barty intently and watching him with his soft, knowing dark eyes. After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally spoke.

"I agree."

Barty furrowed his brow together and blinked. "Wh...what?"

He hadn't really expected Doctor Babar to be on his level. Barty had said pretty much the same thing every other day, and each time Doctor Babar had given him the same response: that Barty needed more time.

"I think you're ready."

"I am?"

"Well, you said it yourself," Doctor Babar replied with a grin, leaning back in the chair. "The medication is working well in your system again. Your mood swings are back to a standard level—at least, what is standard for you. And now that I've had time to study your personality disorder, I'm much more sure of how to treat you."

"So, I can leave?"

"Yes," Doctor Babar responded, but he seemed hesitant. "But there are going to be a few changes to your everyday life."

"What changes?" Barty narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think that it's appropriate for you to work full time throughout the week. I have already written to Mr Stamford Jorkins, and we have both agreed for you to substantially cut down your hours at the Ministry. Instead of doing four full days a week, you will be doing one full day, and two half days, at least until you and I can agree that you are ready to build it up to a full time job once again. Secondly, you will spend four hours a week with me, here, for intensive therapy."

"Like what we already do?"

"Yes, but a little bit more in depth. We'll be talking about your past issues and problems on a more psychological level."

"What else?" Barty's lips were pursed together. He was expecting the worst.

"We don't think you should continue to live with Luna."

Barty shook his head instantly. "No."

"It's in both of your best interests, Barty."

"No!" Barty yelled, glaring across the desk to Doctor Babar. "This past week has been _hell_ without her! You don't understand!" Barty lunged forward, gripping the desk. "Don't do this to me."

"We'll be discussing it with Luna first, Barty," Doctor Babar continued, raising his hands to try and calm him. "Obviously, if she really wants to continue living with you, there's nothing we can do to stop her."

Barty relaxed considerably, and slowly sat back down in his seat. There was no way that Luna would _want_ to stop living with him—was there? "So," he repeated, evening out his breathing considerably. "You're going to let me go?"

"Yes. I'll discharge you today, but first we need to discuss what you're going to do when you leave the hospital."

"I'll go find Luna," Barty responded blandly, almost as if he was on autopilot.

"See, that's not the right answer," Doctor Babar took out a small notebook, and dabbed his quill in some ink. "We'll come up with a schedule. The most important thing for you to do first when you leave is start making up your Calming Draught for the next month. You will be discharged with whatever supplies the On Duty Healers have been medicating you with, but you need to make sure that you have enough for future months."

"Okay," Barty drawled. "So...I'll go buy some more supplies."

"Excellent. So, you will leave the hospital and head to Diagon Alley, where you will visit the Apothecary and buy your supplies for your potion. Then what?"

"I'll go home and brew the potion?"

"Yes," Doctor Babar jotted some notes down. "Then I would appreciate it if you were to remain at home for the remainder of the day. Upon your discharge, I will formally write a letter to Luna Lovegood, explaining the situation to her. I'm sure that she will then be straight up to see you at home."

Barty nodded slowly, and Doctor Babar smiled.

"Well, come along. It's time to get you discharged."

oOo

The weather was just typical for early January. The sky was thick, grey and heavy with the threat of impending snow, and the white, wintry sun was gleaming through the clouds. Every breath of air was harsh and cold, and the cobbles of Diagon Alley that Luna and Rolf walked along were glittering with frost. A beautiful sheen of ice coated everything that the winter had touched.

Rolf had bundled up well for the cold weather, and he'd insisted that Luna wear one of his jumpers and jackets as well. Before they had left his flat, he had wound his only knitted scarf tightly around Luna's neck, as well as forcing the only pair of gloves he owned on her hands. Luna appreciated the gesture, particularly as Rolf's ears were beginning to tinge pink with the cold, and he was rubbing his fingers together to generate some heat.

In reality, it had been a ridiculous idea to come out in Diagon Alley for only the second time that week, especially to visit Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour, which had only recently reopened after it suffered a lot of damage after the war. There was no way that Luna had any interest in eating ice cream when it was so cold outside, but the truth was, she did need some fresh air. Barty's week of incarceration at the Unit was almost over, and she wanted to buy something for him in Diagon Alley; a kind of welcome home present. She felt bad enough for not going to visit him in the hospital, but Neville and Rolf had done a good job of convincing her that it wouldn't aid his recovery.

Luna had half expected Diagon Alley to be empty, so she was surprised to discover that it was overcrowded and bustling with people. People hurried from shop to shop, eager to spend the gold they had been given at Christmas. Christmas songs still chimed in the air, and Luna noticed a lot of people were still wearing bright knitted Christmas jumpers, most with the motifs dancing around or cracking jokes. Luna sighed; she had once loved Christmas, but after this one, she just wanted to go back to normality.

As they sauntered past the broomstick shop, Luna smiled as a small boy soared through the door on a toy broomstick, laughing in delight. He was so heavily padded with clothes that he looked like a little starfish. Rolf caught her looking, and grinned. "Do you want children, Luna?"

Luna blinked up at him, appalled. It was such a personal question; something that was generally discussed between couples, so she was surprised that he had the audacity to ask her so freely. "I can't say I've thought about it too much," she muttered in response.

Rolf grinned, and turned to face ahead. He chatted animatedly to Luna as they walked, but Luna wasn't really listening. She was focusing on the fact that Rolf was brushing his hand against Luna's, and she shoved them in her pockets quickly. She couldn't concentrate on what he was saying—every now and then, she would feel a sudden jerk of shock. She would catch a glimpse of a pair of deep, brown eyes; a flicker of straw-like hair, the swish of the tail of a trench coat around a corner. Luna was seeing Barty everywhere, in the faces of every wizard she passed in Diagon Alley.

She was terribly worried about him and how he was faring at the hospital, but at the same time she was glad for the time they had spent away from one another. She was sure that it would have benefited them, and most importantly, benefited Barty's mental health.

The horrible image of Barty sprawled out and bleeding in the bathtub crossed her mind, and she shuddered, suddenly feeling quite faint.

"Are you alright, Luna?" Rolf asked, worry spreading across his sleepy features.

"Yeah," Luna murmured. She placed a hand on her neck, feeling a lump forming in her throat, and swallowed slowly. "Can we get to the Ice Cream Parlour? I think I need to sit down."

oOo

Just an hour after Doctor Babar had discharged him, Barty was walking briskly through the streets of Diagon Alley, his hands shoved into his pockets to keep them warm.

Even though he wasn't outwardly displaying it, he was blissfully happy to be free of that wretched hospital ward. Even though it was freezing, and almost every nerve in his body ached with cold, he was happy. Happy to be outside, to be free, and to be doing something normal.

Of course, he couldn't completely ignore the odd glances that people were shooting him as he passed, but for the moment, he just didn't care. He was _free_.

True to his word, Barty had made the decision to head straight for Diagon Alley to visit the Apothecary and purchase some ingredients. In truth, he hadn't wanted to listen to Doctor Babar's advice, but he couldn't deny that it wasn't _good_ advice. This was a new year—the troubles of the past were in the last year, and he had a whole new start. It was best to start it properly, even if that meant following rules, despite hating them so much.

As he wandered Diagon Alley, searching for the Apothecary that he had never visited, he wondered absently if the shopkeeper would brew it for him, for a little extra gold. Of course, Barty knew how to make the Calming Draught to an immaculate standard, but his recent relapse, combined with the hospital doing almost everything for him for a week, made everything seem just that little bit harder. It would be nice to be able to take the Calming Draught home, and not have to worry about brewing it himself again for a while.

He looked up at the peeling purple paint of the apothecary when he finally found it. It was a small shop, hidden away between two much larger ones, and clearly it didn't get much traffic, as the bigger ingredients shop was much closer to the Leaky Cauldron. So far, Barty liked the look of the shop—it was cosy, compact, and was likely not to have too many people inside.

Upon pushing the door open and ignoring the little tinkling bell that rang, he was pleased to discover that the shop was entirely empty, save for the shopkeeper. It was a sweet little shop, with rows and rows of shelves holding many different tiny bottles and vials, and a large glass cabinet which held a whole array of different ingredients. The shop was dimly lit with candlelight, and swathes of purple material shrouded almost everything, causing the light to glow an eerie lilac colour.

The plump shopkeeper was dressed from head to toe in silver spangled robes, and was wearing a large white hat. From her lined features, and grey-threaded blonde hair, she seemed to be quite old, but she carried her age well. A glimmer of recognition passed over her narrow green eyes, but then she smiled warmly.

It came as quite a shock to Barty. Almost everyone else who passed him in the street looked at him with contempt or disgust, or made a noticeable effort to steer clear of him. It was unusual for anyone to offer any hint of kindness towards Barty, particularly not complete strangers.

Without saying anything, Barty withdrew the recipe for the potion. The shopkeeper read it carefully, but told him that some ingredients needed a Healer's signature, due to it being a medicinal potion. When Barty took out the prescription that had come with the Calming Draught the hospital had already supplied, she found it extremely hilarious to discover that Doctor Babar titled himself as a Doctor instead of a Healer.

"That's a Muggle title, that is," she stated, even though Barty was perfectly aware. "Do you know why he calls himself that?"

Barty pursed his lips. All he wanted to do was purchase his ingredients and leave, not chat aimably with this woman. He wanted to have his potion brewed and be ready for Luna to return home to him. He didn't have time for this.

However, as he looked into the shopkeeper's warm eyes, he was reminded of the way she had smiled so brightly at him, even after realising who he was. That sort of kindness didn't come very often to Barty—the least he could do was offer her a few morsels of conversation.

"He's worked with Muggles, too," Barty told the shopkeeper, scratching his head as he spoke. "I guess he just prefers the term 'Doctor' to Healer."

The shopkeeper looked interested, but she didn't press him for any more information. Instead, she wandered around her little shop, picking up various items and ingredients and carefully wrapping them up and placing them into a paper bag, before giving Barty his purchases. Barty handed her a small pile of gold, but she pushed it back into his hand, still smiling.

"This one can be on me," she insisted, and Barty felt his insides warming. "And you let me know if you need any help brewing that Calming Draught—it's a tricky potion, that is."

As Barty left the shop, he felt ten times better than he had when walking in. So far, the new year seemed to be working in his favour. He only hoped that it would continue to flow so well. However, all of that was soon going to change.

A few shops away from the apothecary, and Barty found himself passing a gaudy, over-decorated Ice Cream Parlour. He slowed as he walked past, staring in amusement as he took in the neon sign, the chequered patio, and the bright coloured exterior paintwork. There was a vast array of tables in the outside seating area, and Barty noticed that a warmth was emitting from the seating area, as though some kind of charm had been placed on it.

He was just about to continue on his way through Diagon Alley, with the intent of heading back to the Leaky Cauldron before apparating to his house, when he heard something that almost made his heart stop.

A familiar, airy laugh, sounding directly from the Ice Cream Parlour.

oOo

Luna was sitting opposite Rolf at an outside table at the Ice Cream Parlour, with her hands clasped gratefully around a warm ceramic mug of cocoa. Now that they were actually at the Ice Cream Parlour, she was happy to be there—the Parlour was warm and inviting, and Florean Fortesque was a kind and inviting man, who had immediately jumped over the counter upon noticing Rolf dragging a particularly green looking Luna into his store, and insisting on giving her hot chocolate on the house.

Her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the Parlour and the soothing drink, and she was feeling much better than she had just ten minutes ago.

Oddly enough, Luna discovered that upon forcing herself to listen to Rolf, she actually found him quite funny. As he sat opposite her, he was telling her a funny story, gesturing wildly with his arms and pulling silly faces. For the first time in a while, Luna found herself laughing—actual, real laughter, the kind that gave her a pain in her side and made her jaw ache.

It was nice to laugh, she realised. It was nice to not taking much notice of any worries that she would have to return to. Just being the girl not far into adulthood that she was, enjoying a drink with a friend.

oOo

Barty felt the breath leave his lungs when he noticed Luna sitting at the Ice Cream Parlour. Even though she was bundled up a little excessively to keep warm, she still looked wonderful. In fact, she looked more than wonderful—she looked _radiant,_ almost as if she was glowing.

Her cheeks were rosy with the cold, and she was laughing loudly at something that Rolf had said, her head thrown back and her eyes bright with amusement. It was in that moment when Barty realised just how much he truly loved Luna Lovegood.

But as he watched her, he couldn't recall a time when Luna had laughed like that around him, or even appear as happy and carefree as she did in that very moment.

He wondered if it was worth taking the steps and heading straight back into her life. Would he benefit her, or was he just going to cause her more pain?

Barty was just about to bite his lip and turn away from Luna, when Rolf's single action froze any train of thought that he was having.

As Rolf leaned forward to Luna whilst she was laughing, cupping her face with his cold hands before pressing his lips firmly to hers, a cloud of red mist crossed over his vision.

Everything else in Diagon Alley simply melted away; all he could see ahead of him was Rolf, attached to Luna, _his_ Luna, by the lips. Their faces seemed to grow bigger and bigger, zooming into his view, before Barty realised he was ploughing towards them like a freight train.

oOo

Luna's mouth had been hanging open with laughter when Rolf had laid a wet, uncalled for kiss on her lips. Due to sudden shock, it had taken Luna about a minute before she pulled her head away. Her next move had been to jump out of her seat and yell at Rolf, but something interrupted her.

She initially thought she was hallucinating, because there was no way that Barty could _really_ be soaring towards them with his wand outstretched and a terrifying, burning fire in his eyes. But when she realised that what she was seeing was really happening, her mouth dropped open, preparing to say his name, but no sound left her throat.

Barty's face was alight with insanity, and Luna knew in that moment that there was nothing she could do to calm Barty down this time. It was obvious that he had seen what Rolf had just done, and he was out to kill. Innocent bystanders and passer-bys had noticed Barty and sensed danger, and they were slowing down, some even scooping up their children and heading in different directions. Customers seated at the Ice Cream Parlour around them were staggering to their feet and rushing out of the way. As he drew closer, Luna realised that Barty's crazed gaze was focused intently on Rolf.

"Rolf..." Luna murmured, feeling her blood freeze.

"Uh-huh," Rolf whispered, and Luna heard the fear in his voice.

"Run."

"Run _where?_ " Rolf hissed. Luna didn't need to shoot a glance at Rolf to know that he was rooted to the spot.

Barty suddenly stopped, about five metres away from them, with his wand outstretched.

"Rolf, _run!_ " screeched Luna, and Rolf didn't need to be told twice. As she thrust her hand into her pocket to grab her wand, Rolf dashed to the left of the Ice Cream Parlour at breakneck speed—but Barty's eyes and wand followed him slowly. He aimed his wand squarely at Rolf's back, a smirk spreading across his features. "Barty, _no!_ " cried Luna, her bottom lip shuddering.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_ Barty hissed, causing many onlookers to gasp in horror as a jet of bright emerald light burst from the tip of his wand, and streamed towards Rolf.

"PROTEGO!" screamed Luna.

The shield charm made instant contact with the killing curse, and for one strange moment, Luna thought that her spell had somehow swallowed Barty's. But a millisecond later, the combined spells exploded in mid-air, sending shards of electric blue light soaring in all directions.

Luna ducked under the table quickly, and glanced around wildly, trying to make out Barty and Rolf in the sudden crowd of running witches and wizards. Her eyes followed a jet of blue light that was streaming through the crowd, before it suddenly speared Rolf's running form directly between the shoulder blades, causing him to freeze and slump to the floor. Luna made to crawl out from under the table, but then she caught sight of Barty.

Barty was laid on the floor in the same spot that he had been standing, with his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his mouth lolling open slackly. His wand had clattered to the cobblestones beside him, and Luna could only assume that a piece of the deadly combined spells had backfired and hit him.

Her heart lurched at the sight, and she immediately began to crawl towards Barty's limp body. She knew that someone would probably help Rolf—but the onlookers and customers would want nothing more than to be miles away from Barty.

As she staggered to her feet and began to run towards him, Luna noticed that jets of deadly light were still shooting around the narrow street, bouncing off window panes and brick walls. Her eyes widened in shock as she realised that it wasn't just Barty and Rolf who had been affected—innocent people around her were screaming and tumbling to the ground as they were hit by stray bolts of the spell. Bodies littered Diagon Alley. It was like a scene from a horror film.

She was just inches away from reaching Barty when a jet of light hit her squarely in the stomach, causing her to gasp in pain. Slowly, she looked down at the space where the spell had made contact with her, and as if she was defrosting, her body slackened and collapsed, unceremoniously crashing into the floor, her hand just centimetres away from Barty's.

Then everything went dark.


	34. Recovery and Revelations

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

Luna opened her eyes groggily.

The first thing she was aware of was the smell of antiseptic seeping into her nostrils. It was a smell she only associated with hospitals and unnaturally house proud women.

Her eyes adjusted to the bright white light, and memories began to flow back into her mind, occasionally firing a relevant word into her subconscious. _Hospital. Diagon Alley. Explosion. Curse. Rolf. Barty._

 _Barty._

 _Barty._

 _Barty._

She sat up suddenly, staring around wildly. She was in a hospital bed in a private ward, with the blankets pulled up to her chest. Her eyes travelled from a large window, overlooking the grounds of St. Mungo's Hospital, a closed door, and a small wooden table beside her bed. The table had a few "Get Well Soon!" cards littered on it's surface, a glass vase of flowers, and a large punnet of strawberries. Her stomach grumbled at the sight of the fruit, and she lifted her hand to press it to her stomach.

She noticed two new things at this point. The first was that she realised she couldn't quite pull her arm over her body, as she was attached to an IV line, which was feeding some kind of fluid through a needle in her arm. The second was a thick, padded bandage around her middle.

However, she pushed the growling of her hungry, bandaged stomach, and reached to pull the drip out of her arm. She needed to find Barty, and make sure he was okay. That was her priority.

"Miss Luna, just what do you think you're doing?"

Luna blinked, feeling like a child caught in the act of doing something naughty. She retracted her arm quickly, turning her attention to the person who had chastised her.

In the doorway, a very large, dark-skinned woman with curly red hair stood, with one hand on her hip and the other clutching a clipboard. She was wearing the standard lime green robes that all St. Mungo's employees were permitted to wear. She suddenly flew forwards towards Luna, with an odd gracefulness for such a wide woman, and proceeded to push up the back of the bed so that Luna was sitting upright.

"You shouldn't mess around with your treatment, Miss," the woman told her, and her expression softened slightly. "Now, I am the Matron of this ward, but you can just call me Joyce, okay?"

Luna nodded slowly. "I need to be discharged immediately. I have to go and find Barty...Barty Crouch, do you know which ward he will be on?"

A flicker of recognition crossed Joyce's face, but she deliberately ignored what Luna said, pushing the table closer to her side. She pulled her wand out of the pocket of her robes, and gave it a silent swish, causing a jug of water and an empty glass to appear on the table. After stowing away her wand, she proceeded to pour Luna a glass of water. "Right, why don't you get yourself a drink and have some of these yummy strawberries. You've been asleep for three days, so you must be starving."

"Please don't patronise me," Luna replied quietly. "I need to know if he's okay."

Joyce rolled on the back of her heels and sighed. "Luna, you need to get your rest."

" _No_ , I need to _leave_ ," Luna shoved back the covers, and climbed out of bed, ignoring the drip in her arm. It yanked out of her skin, but she barely noticed—her eyes were focused on the open door.

However, before she could make her escape, Joyce lunged forwards and placed her hands firmly on Luna's waist, lifting her up as easily as if she was a toddler, and tucking her firmly back under the covers. With another swish of her wand, the drip was lodged back into the vein in her arm.

"Joyce, I need to see Barty," Luna whimpered, trying to struggle out of the bed once again. However, she was restricted once more, but not by Joyce. A searing, white-hot pain lurched through her stomach, causing her to double over in pain.

"Lie back," Joyce ordered, and Luna was so shocked by the sudden sharpness in her tone that she did as she was told. She watched as Joyce lifted Luna's nightshirt and pressed her palms to her bandaged stomach. Bright, glowing orbs of golden light shrouded Joyce's hands like a thick mitt, and Luna's stomach seemed to absorb the magic. As it did so, she felt the pain easing slowly, and her breathing relaxed.

After the treatment was finished, Luna realised that she felt a lot calmer, even a little tired—though, she didn't see how that could be possible after the seventy two hours of sleep she'd apparently had. "I have to see him," she croaked feebly. "Where is he?"

Joyce looked uncomfortable. "It's not my place to speak to you about that, honey. The man from the Ministry will be over to see you soon, I'm sure." Before Luna could respond, she had scooped up her clipboard and bounced out of the ward.

Luna tried to will herself to stay awake, thinking desperately of what situation Barty was in. However, as much as she tried to prevent it, her subconscious was soon unwillingly lulled into sleep.

oOo

"I really don't think it's fair for you to be bursting in here wanting to ask Luna those questions, Aurora," a familiar male voice filled Luna's ears as she drifted back into consciousness slowly. She fought the urge to open her eyes, wanting to first check how many people were in the room before she decided if she wanted to socialise or not.

"I need to know," muttered Aurora. "I need to know where they're keeping him."

"You're being completely unfair!" snapped a female voice. It was Ginny. Even though Luna was still angry with her, she felt relieved to hear her. "Luna has gone through a traumatic ordeal, and you're wanting to know where Barty is for your own selfish reasons?"

"Finding out whether he is my father or not isn't selfish!" Aurora chirped. "I've had no father figure for my entire life."

"Well if Barty is your dad, then he's not exactly going to be a father figure from Azkaban," hissed Ginny. "And the other one is dead. So why don't you get out of here—you're not even friends with Luna."

"Yes I am!"

"You've met her what, _once?"_

"Guys," the male voice whispered again, and Luna realised it was Neville. "Come on."

"Yes, come on," came the booming voice of Matron Joyce. "I think it's time you three left. Luna doesn't need to wake up to this." At the sound of Joyce's voice, Luna eyes flickered open accidentally. In the brief millisecond that she could see around her, she spotted Neville and the red-headed Aurora staring at Joyce, while Ginny was looking down at Luna.

"I'll just stay in here a little longer," Ginny insisted. "Alone," she added, before Neville or Aurora could reply. There was the sound of shuffling and chair legs scraping, and then footsteps getting further away, until Luna assumed she was now alone with Ginny.

"I know you're awake," Ginny said. "You can stop pretending, now."

Luna cracked her eyes open slowly, and looked over at Ginny. Her newly married friend was sitting in the seat closest to Luna's bedside, with her auburn hair tied up in a messy bun. There were dark circles around her eyes, and she fidgeted with her fingers, avoiding Luna's eye contact.

For several minutes they sat silently, and Luna knew that Ginny didn't want to be the first to speak properly, but neither did she. After a while, Luna won the silent battle, and Ginny finally spoke.

"Luna, I..."

"I know what you're going to say," dismissed Luna. "Just leave it."

"No, you have to listen to me," Ginny reached over and took Luna's hands, clutching them tightly and Luna felt too weak to pull them out of her grip. "I'm _sorry_ , Luna." Ginny was gazing desperately at Luna, her bright brown eyes glistening with tears. "I was stupid. I was worse than stupid. I was just so wrapped up in my hatred for him and making sure that you were physically okay, that I wasn't even _thinking_ about your feelings," the tears were slipping down Ginny's cheeks and splashing onto Luna's duvet. "The wedding turned me into a bride from hell and I just went _crazy._ But I mean it. I'm sorry. And...even though I really, really cant stand Barty...I'm...I'm..."

Luna raised her eyebrows patiently, but a small smile had crept onto her face. "You're...going to back up and give me some space, from now on?"

"Yes," spluttered Ginny, and Luna's smile brightened.

"Thank you, Ginny," Luna replied, and Ginny buckled over and pressed a wet kiss to their clasped hands. "But...you need to do something else."

Ginny looked up at her expectantly. "Anything."

"You need to apologise to Barty when you see him, Ginny," Luna tried not to react to the way that Ginny's face contorted at the thought. "Not just me. You took away the thing that was making him into a better person. You..." Luna closed her eyes, trying to force away the horrible vision that always seeped into her brain whenever she wasn't expecting it. "He tried to kill himself, Ginny."

"I know," Ginny murmured, and she nodded slowly. "I know."

oOo

While she laid there in her hospital bed, staring up at the tiled ceiling and the florescent lights, Luna seemed to lose all concept of time. The curtains on her ward remained closed, and all the meals that Matron Joyce brought her tasted the same. The minutes melted into hours. The hours into days.

After what felt like a thousand years, another visitor knocked on her ward door and entered, clearing his throat. Luna knew the man - it was John Dawlish. He pulled a badge from his pocket upon entering, which confirmed his identity. "Good morning, Luna—I'm John Dawlish, I was Barty's Watchwizard."

"Yes, I know," Luna murmured, eyeing Dawlish up and down reproachfully. Barty had told her of how Dawlish had rudely told Barty he wanted nothing more to do with him after evidence of his relapse arose. "You dismissed him."

Dawlish scratched the back of his head and forced a grin. "Yes, well. Things got a little out of hand, you see."

"You mean you didn't want to work with him while he wasn't well," she continued, he voice bordering on cutting.

"I think you ought to calm down, Miss Lovegood," Dawlish went on, and Luna raised her eyebrow at the sudden formality of his tone. "You wouldn't want to cause yourself any further damage."

"What happened?" Luna asked suddenly. "I mean, in Diagon Alley—what was it that happened?"

Dawlish crossed the ward and sat down on one of the orange plastic chairs beside Luna's bed, and proceeded to pull a roll of parchment out of his robe and scan it with his eyes. "Well, what do you remember?"

Luna licked her lips carefully and took a deep breath. "Barty tried to kill Rolf with an Unforgivable Curse," she started, but suddenly realised just how much of a terrible person she had been. All she had done since waking up was worry about Barty—she hadn't seemed to spare a thought for Rolf. " _Rolf_ ," she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Where is Rolf? Oh, _Merlin_ , is he okay?"

"All in good time," Dawlish replied calmly. "What happened next?"

"It says it on your parchment, doesn't it?" spluttered Luna.

"I want to hear it in your words."

Luna swallowed and bowed her head, blinking back tears. "I defended Rolf," she whispered. "I used a Shield Charm. That's all I remember."

"You and Barty both performed those spells at approximately twelve-fifteen," Dawlish replied quietly, turning his eyes back to the parchment. "We aren't entirely sure what happened. The Shield Charm naturally tried to defend the Killing Curse, but it wasn't powerful enough. When the two spells merged together, it caused the explosion which created a weaker, less dangerous version of the Killing Curse. That's what the spell was that was ricocheting around Diagon Alley and colliding with anyone in contact."

"Less...dangerous..." Luna repeated slowly.

"It was probably the defence in the Shield Charm which reduced it's potency. But yes, it was less dangerous. Anyone who was hit from a distance was merely knocked unconscious."

"What about Rolf?"

Dawlish placed the parchment in his lap slowly. "Even though you reduced the potency with your Shield Charm, Barty was still aiming for Rolf. The intent to kill was there."

"He's dead?" Luna whispered, her bottom lip wobbling and her throat tightening. Rolf irritated her frequently, but he had still become a friend as well as work colleague. Of course, she had been angry at him for kissing her at Diagon Alley, but she knew she wouldn't be able to bear it if he was dead.

"He's not dead," Dawlish concluded, and Luna let out a sigh of relief. "But he's in critical condition and being kept in an Intensive Care Unit."

"What about Barty?" Luna asked, after thanking Merlin that Rolf hadn't been killed. "Where is he?"

"Barty is being treated on a secure unit."

"What about when he's better?"

Dawlish rolled up the parchment and placed it back inside his robes. "He's been sentenced to return to Azkaban as soon as his treatment concludes."

Luna clapped a hand over her mouth, and she couldn't prevent the tears this time. "No," she cried, shaking her head furiously. "No, that's not fair. It's not fair, it's not fair!" she yelled, pummelling her blankets with her fists.

"Luna," Dawlish interjected, trying to calm her. "Luna, please listen to me. That's not necessarily the end—that's just what the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have ordered."

"What do you _mean?"_ sobbed Luna.

"Well, due to the nature of his crime, he should be sent back to Azkaban prison immediately. The conditions of his release were simple, there weren't many rules, and he knew that he was by no means to use dark magic or any kind of Unforgivable Curse. He had to integrate into society, but he managed to fuck that up pretty quickly by jumping into bed with an eighteen-year-old girl," Luna averted her eyes awkwardly. "He made a terrible name for himself by seducing you and having you live in his house with him. He probably could have redeemed himself for that over time, but then he had to go and use the damn Killing Curse on that boy. His chances aren't light. However...

"As soon as it was announced that Barty was to be returned to Azkaban at the earliest convenience, Doctor Babar made it his priority to try and change their minds. He apparated to the Ministry immediately and somehow managed to get an appointment with the Head of the Department. He left a formal statement claiming how Barty's attack is down to the Ministry, due to us not providing Barty with help quickly enough. He believes that even though the relapse was due to Ginny Weasley relieving him of his medication, Barty's decline into criminal insanity could be down to the Ministry throwing him in Azkaban all those years ago, instead of providing him adequate help. Babar thinks that if the Ministry had done something after he was first convicted, he would be a different person right now."

"So why _didn't_ the Ministry do anything to help him? Especially when he was released...all anyone says is how Barty is deranged and unstable and _insane_. So why did nobody think to help him instead of just shunning him?"

Dawlish looked uncomfortable. "You have to understand, Luna...the Wizarding World have always been quite medieval when it comes to things like this. We don't know about these mental health conditions...if a person is insane, they;re usually criminals, and they're convicted."

"Why are you acting as though I'm a Muggle?" snapped Luna suddenly. "I've been brought up in the Wizarding World too, Dawlish. Except my mother and father taught me to love unconditionally, and to not judge people for the things that might not be visible above the surface."

"Well, it seems that Doctor Babar must have been taught the same way as you. Because he's demanded that Barty be given a full trial."

Luna relaxed quickly, and leaned back on her pillows. "A trial?" She almost couldn't believe what she was hearing. He was being given another chance.

Dawlish held up his hands. "Please, don't get too hopeful, Luna," he quelled. "The Ministry have reluctantly taken Doctor Babar's information into account, but I think it was mainly because they wanted to get him off their case. In the trial, he is going to be given an opportunity to plead insanity to the Wizengamot."

"But surely they'll believe him, right?"

"I don't know. Most of the Wizengamot are ancient, they live in the past. They were around when Barty was being charged with the crimes he past committed, and they will probably find it difficult to give him any kind of compassion. But, Doctor Babar is prepared to fight Barty's case, and he believes it's a very strong case."

"What will happen if Doctor Babar wins Barty's case? Will he be able to go back to normal?"

"Doctor Babar wants to have him sectioned to the psychiatric unit at the Healing Clinic that he runs," Dawlish replied. "Only it won't just be for a week this time. He will be given round-the-clock care until he is deemed fit for society once again. That could take months, even years...and even if Doctor Babar considers discharging him, he will have to face the Wizengamot again."

Luna watched Dawlish's face carefully, taking in his words. Doctor Babar. The Healing Clinic. Round the clock care...they were all things that Luna knew Barty would rather not have to deal with, and going back to the Unit didn't appeal to her either, particularly when Barty had only just been released. She hadn't even had the chance to speak to him properly.

But she couldn't deny that Doctor Babar's option was definitely the more desirable option. Barty would be safe, comfortable, and he'd receive help from the Healers constantly. One day, there would be the chance for him to be released. She nodded slowly.

"I have a letter to give you regarding the date of the trial," Dawlish said quietly, and he pulled a thin envelope from his pocket, handing it to Luna. "You are to prepare yourself as witness for the defence. Due to the nature of your condition, you will be permitted to bring one person along with you for emotional assistance." Dawlish stood up from his seat, and extended his hand to Luna. She shook it, and then Dawlish quickly proceeded to exit the ward.

Luna sunk further back into her bed and started to carefully tear the letter open. Barty had a chance to steer clear of Azkaban, despite what he'd done. It was more than she could hope for. Luna wished that she could see him before the trial, to speak with him and kiss him...but she hadn't even been told where he was being securely held. She didn't need to ask to know that he probably wouldn't be permitted visitors.

As she read the letter, she wondered who she would take as he entourage, but the words bouncing off the page blurred her thoughts. The information was exactly as Dawlish had told her, and his voice echoed in her head as she read. "...due to the nature of your condition..." she repeated, tracing her finger over the words.

What _was_ the nature of her condition? Of course, she'd been blasted with the curse too, but she hadn't had any evident pain for a while, not since Matron Joyce performed the last healing spell. She wasn't exactly in critical condition, like Rolf. Frankly, Luna didn't really think she needed to be here, but every time she mentioned it to Joyce, she was shunned.

As if she was reading her mind, Matron Joyce suddenly burst through the door in a flash of lime green, pushing a dinner trolley. "Good morning, Miss Luna—you're looking remarkably radiant today."

Luna forced a smile. She was slowly becoming accustomed to Joyce's dramatic entrances and quirky ways, but she was still a slight strain on the eyes sometimes. "Hello, Joyce."

"It's eleven-thirty, but seeing as you slept through breakfast, I thought you might be hungry." Joyce proceeded to pull Luna's bedside table closer, and placed a plate of toast in front of her.

Luna eyed the plate in discomfort. Her stomach was in knots; she was sure that there was no way she would be able to stomach any food just yet. But Joyce never took no for an answer, and she pushed the plate nearer.

"It's only toast, it won't bite. Eat up, or you _know_ I'll force feed it to you. You are eating for three, after all."

Luna almost snapped her neck from turning her attention to Joyce so quickly. "What?"

Joyce grinned. "I'll force feed it to you."

"No...what do you mean, three?"

Joyce moved closer, and pressed a large hand to Luna's stomach. "Yes, three. You've got to feed your babies—twins, isn't that marvellous?"

Joyce's words rattled around her head, and the room began to swim before her eyes. "Marvellous," she repeated slowly.

Then she fainted right there in the bed.


	35. Decisions of the Court

Summary: When let off from Azkaban on a second chance, Barty Crouch Jr becomes Xenophilius Lovegood's worst nightmare, back to haunt him and his daughter. In order to fulfil forgotten vows, an ex-murderer and a war heroine are brought together in unconventional circumstances, leading to an unexpected romance.

* * *

oOo

It was a week since Luna had been discharged St. Mungo's Hospital, and she was briskly walking down a long, dark corridor of the Ministry, chewing on her bottom lip.

Neville was doing his best to keep up with her, looking slightly uncomfortable in the tight collar of his smart robes. It had been difficult to decide who Luna was going to take to the Ministry with her as her entourage. She had been to visit Rolf, and while he was faring a lot better, he still wouldn't be up to the journey (which Luna was frankly quite glad about). Ginny had offered, but Luna could tell by the faraway look in her honey-brown eyes that she probably wouldn't be the best company, due to still feeling fairly adverse towards Barty.

Luna had almost vomited when Aurora Greengrass had sweetly offered to escort her. She did like the girl, but since her declaration that Barty may or may not be her father, Luna hadn't been able to look at her the same way. She knew that Aurora only meant well, but Luna had the impression that she would want to attend the court more out of curiosity than guidance—after all, she was yet to meet her potential father for the first time.

Neville had appeared like a white knight, and Luna was only too happy to allow him to accompany her. She felt quite bad now, struggling with the too-tight robes, his face reddening.

They both soon paled considerably however, when they reached the lower levels of the Ministry. The air had taken a sudden, Arctic chill, sending icy shivers right down to their bones. Luna knew the feeling of wintry hopelessness all to well—it was the cruel sensations that only Dementors brought with them.

Her heart pined for Barty. She couldn't bear to imagine how much he must be suffering right now, no doubt heavily surrounded by Dementors that longed to press their clammy, hollow mouths to his, and suck out every last shard of his broken soul.

"Luna," Neville whispered beside her. "You need to keep your strength. Try and think of something happy." He was trying to appear confident, but Luna detected a green tinge to his pasty skin. She did as he suggested, however, and closed her eyes, trying to allow a warm memory to wash over her.

She imagined her mother and father when she was much younger. It was a memory from a photograph that resided at her old home—they had visited Brighton together, and accidentally stumbled into the nude beach. Luna had been digging a large hole to sit in, when her embarrassed father suddenly scooped her out of the sand, and the family hurried away from the flocks of naked men and women.

Luna felt laughter being suppressed in her throat, and she smiled. Her insides felt pleasantly warm again, and she forced herself to focus on that feeling, and continued to stride confidently down the corridor, clutching Neville's arm to support him.

They arrived outside a large, iron-wrought door, with an elderly wizard in vibrant purple robes stood guard. He tried to offer them a polite smile, but Luna noticed the condescending apprehension in his pale, glassy eyes. He knew who Luna was, and it was apparent that he wasn't a fan of her relationship with Barty.

"Names," he murmured.

"Luna Lovegood," she announced. "This is my escort, Neville Longbottom." She pulled the letter that John Dawlish had given her out of her handbag, and handed it to the snooty old man. His eyes scanned it slowly, and he tucked it into his pocket, and then stepped back.

The heavy door swung open with a deafening creak, and the doorman nodded for them to enter. Luna's lip wobbled as she struggled to retain her confidence, and she headed into the court.

The room was wide and circular, with the seats for the court rising around the middle. Luna noticed that a full court was present; every witch and wizard who resided on the higher seats was wearing the same plum coloured robes, boasting a shiny gold _'W'_ on the breast. Luna felt nervous under their stares—some of them gave her sympathetic smiles, while others simply cast their worried eyes on her. Others, however, furrowed their brows in contempt, and shook their heads, apparently disgusted by the choices that she had made.

There was a single seat in the centre of the room, with shackles on the arms and legs. Luna's heart gave a tiny flurry of sadness as she realised that this particular seat would be the one that Barty would be forced to sit upon.

On the bench closest to the front, the tanned Doctor Babar sat facing stoically forward, with his thick brows knitted together. He was apparently deep in thought, and Luna nodded to Neville, silently suggesting that they sit at the front beside him. However, before Luna could make her way to the Doctor, an arm was thrown in her way.

"Afraid not, Luna," it was a male voice, and when she looked up to see who the arm was attached to, she realised it was John Dawlish. "I think it's better if you steer clear of the very front of the court. You wouldn't want to be a distraction to Barty." Dawlish took her other arm and began to steer her to a bench that was slightly further back. A balding man smiled brightly. "This is Stamford Jorkins, Luna," Dawlish introduced as they sat down. "He was Barty's boss."

Luna gave the man a strained smile, and proceeded to glance around the courtroom, taking note of the other people who had attended. There wasn't a great deal of witnesses or guests.

Beside Doctor Babar sat a thin, red-lipped witch, dressed in a sharp grey Muggle suit. She was holding a clipboard and had a pen tucked behind her ear, and she occasionally muttered to Doctor Babar. Luna wondered idly about how much she looked like Muggle, before she took in Doctor Babar's appearance. He was also wearing a crisp Muggle suit, with a navy tie. He had a notebook in his hand, and also clutched a pen.

It hit Luna all of a sudden just how _modern_ Doctor Babar and his assistant seemed to be. They had seemed to throw away some awkward wizarding methods to make way for easier Muggle technology.

If the whole Wizarding World acted just a little more like Doctor Babar, perhaps Barty wouldn't be in this situation.

Sat in front of Luna was a plumpish woman in emerald green robes, and clasping a brown snakeskin purse on her lap. When she turned her head to smile confidently, Luna recognised her as the woman who owned the small apothecary in Diagon Alley.

Much to her distaste, Luna finally spotted a horribly familiar face at the very back of row of the Wizengamot. Rita Skeeter was staring down at Luna hungrily, baring her shark-like teeth in obvious excitement. Her lime-green Quick-Quotes Quill was already scribbling rapidly on a floating sheaf of parchment, and Luna's stomach sank at the thought of what she might read in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow.

Silence fell upon the court as Kingsley Shacklebolt entered through the door at the back of the court. He nodded to the guests, his eyes lingering for a little while longer on Luna, and then he stood behind the main podium in the Wizengamot. He contrasted dramatically with the plum-clad wizards around him, as he was wearing a floor-length set of vivid orange robes and a matching cap.

He reached for a small, ceremonial hammer that resided on the podium, and rapped it sharply against a sound block, ordering everyone to turn their attention to the court.

"The Wizengamot have gathered today to present the trial for Mr Bartemius Crouch Junior, in order to obtain an adequate punishment for his most recent crimes. Bring out the prisoner." Kingsley pointed his wand to the door that he had entered from, and it swung open silently.

At this point, a few members of the Wizengamot murmured an incantation and flourished their own wands, causing a stream of Patronuses to jump forward and begin to stroll around the court, protecting the court members and the witnesses from what was to come. Luna held her breath, trying to focus on the internal warmth of the nearest Patronus to her, a large, floating Koi Karp, and looked towards the open door.

Two large, scabby-handed Dementors floated through the entrance in an eerily silent manner, clutching the upper arms of a pale, sickly looking man. Luna's heart sank at the sight of him—whoever had been looking after him at St. Mungo's had clearly tried to help him make an impression before he was handed over to the Dementors. He was dressed in a faded pinstripe suit that was much too big for him as the sleeves had been rolled up, a pale blue shirt with the collar hanging open, and a maroon tie was knotted untidily around his neck. His face was ghostly white, and there were large purple bags under his eyes. The way his feet dragged as the Dementors pulled him along showed how little energy he seemed to have left.

They dumped him into the central seat, and the shackles snapped instantly around his wrists and ankles, though Luna knew they needn't have bothered. Barty was so lifeless that he wouldn't have made even the slightest attempt at an escape.

The two Dementors stood either side of Barty, and his head drooped onto his chest. "Present yourself," called Kingsley.

"Bartemius Crouch," Barty wheezed, his voice dry and gravelly. "Junior."

"Can't you get him some water?" Luna cried out suddenly. At the sound of her voice, several heads spun to stare at her—including Barty's. She stared at him, watching as his eyes filled with relief.

Neville nudged her suddenly, and Luna automatically looked over to Kingsley. He was offering her an apologetic look, and Luna knew that there was nothing that he could do at the moment in time. She held her tongue and leaned back in her seat; if she continued to shout and cause trouble, she would only risk getting herself removed from the court, and then she would have no chance of defending Barty.

"We will begin," Kingsley stated, and rapped his hammer briefly on the block. "On the third of January of this year, at approximately twelve-fifteen, you attempted the use of an Unforgivable Curse on Mr Rolf Scamander. Do you deny this accusation?"

"I do not," Barty replied hoarsely, his eyes focused on Luna.

"Did you perform the Unforgivable Curse with a full intent to kill Rolf Scamander?"

"I did."

"May you present your reasons?" Kingsley looked mildly surprised that Barty wasn't denying his charges.

"He kissed her," Barty mumbled. "Rolf was kissing Luna."

Luna shifted her attention to her hands, her face glowing, but she could still feel Barty's gaze burning into her.

"Judging by your inadequate reasons to realistically perform an Unforgivable Curse upon an innocent wizard, do you believe that your reasons were brought on by insanity?"

"I do," Barty whispered. When Luna looked at him again, his gaze had fallen to the floor.

There was a flurry of voices around the Wizengamot, and many of the court members shook their heads in disbelief. Kingsley rapped his hammer against the block loudly, effectively hushing the court. Once they were silent, he returned his attention to Barty.

"Did you intend to harm Miss Lovegood with the Unforgivable Curse?"

Luna jumped to her feet automatically. "No!" she yelled, earning several irritable glares from the court. "It was my fault that the curse exploded, but he didn't aim it at me!"

"Miss Lovegood," dismissed Kingsley, though his voice was kind. Neville dragged Luna back into her seat by the back of her robes.

"I would never hurt Luna," Barty replied quietly, his deep brown eyes boring into her.

"Understood," Kingsley muttered, before raising his voice. "We will take ten minutes to assess the charges. When we return, the witnesses will be called in front of the court. Take the prisoners away."

The shackles around Barty's ankles and wrists snapped open, and the Dementors loomed over him.

Every second of the next ten minutes seemed to drag like an hour. Luna watched as Kingsley faced the court, straining to listen to what they were saying. It was pointless—of course; a charm had been placed around the court so that no one else could hear what they were saying.

After what seemed like an age, Kingsley rapped his gavel against the sound block once more, and the court silenced.

"Francessa Morgan," he called, his voice booming around the court. "Madam Francessa Morgan."

The plump woman in green robes scurried to the front of the court, and perched nervously on the edge of the seat that Barty had been sat on. Luna could tell that Madam Francessa was generally a jolly woman, but the intimidating atmosphere had sucked that cheeriness out of her. Her face was the colour of worn parchment, and her stubby hands were shivering.

Kingsley took a seat within the court, and an elderly woman with snow-white hair and purple paint on her lips stood at the podium. When she spoke, her voice was smooth and slightly sarcastic.

"Madam Francessa, of the apothecary in Diagon Alley. Is this correct?"

"Yes," she replied with a nervous smile. Her eyes were focused on Kingsley, and he gave her a warm smile.

"Could you tell us how Barty presented himself when he entered your shop on the third of January?" the court witch continued. "Were there any visible emotions? What did you speak about?"

Francessa took a deep breath. "He seemed a little nervous - but I understood why after reading his prescription. It's quite tricky to brew, a Calming Draught—and of course, he had just left the hospital, so he was bound to be a little shaky. When I noticed that it was him, I did expect him to be a bit more hostile, but he wasn't. He was—well, he was quite nice actually. I was confused about Doctor Babar, and why he used that Muggle title, and Barty told me why. We probably would have chatted for a little bit longer, but I got the impression that he wanted to be off."

"Thank you, Madam Francessa, you may return to your seat." Francessa hurried back to the court, and Luna shot her a grateful smile. "Stamford Jorkins, please enter the circle."

The balding Ministry wizard who Dawlish had introduced Luna to was the next to sit in the seat. He seemed to be more confident than Francessa had, though his eyes were scuttling nervously around at his peers.

Luna found herself zoning out a little while Stamford was talking. He was over-exaggerating in some areas; talking largely about how much of a good employee Barty was, and how much effort he put in. Luna knew that Barty was probably mediocre at best, but Stamford seemed to like Barty so much so that he was trying to influence the court into reflecting his opinions. The only thing that Stamford seemed unhappy with was the fact that due to Barty being out of work, no one was around to organise his files.

Doctor Babar was next to be called in front of the court. The old witch asked him to sit down, but Babar chose to stand directly in front of the Wizengamot instead, reading from a thick, lined notebook that was filled with scribbles. He launched into great detail about how the Ministry had failed to assess his needs since his release from Azkaban, or offer him or any of the other inmates some kind of rehabilitation programme. Doctor Babar talked for a little while about Barty's father, claiming that his parenting methods and environmental factors will no doubt have attributed to Barty's various personality malfunctions, and with a little attention, the Ministry might have noticed this earlier.

Babar went on to plead with the Wizengamot to give Barty a chance. While he had committed a crime, it was ridiculous to believe that it was for any reason other than insanity. He went into more details about what services the Healing Clinic could offer Barty from a long-term admission to the Psychiatric Unit, and he had great hopes that Barty could be stabilised with medication and therapy.

Luna admired the way that Doctor Babar seemed to be so passionate about the care of his patient. He didn't wait for the Wizengamot to dismiss him; he shot them all a stony look, and marched back to his seat.

There was a long silence after Doctor Babar had finished his spiel, and then the old court witch called out Luna's name. Neville squeezed her hand briefly, and she took the steps towards the seat. She wondered if she should try and stand confidently in front of them like Doctor Babar had, but her legs felt like jelly.

The silence was deafening as she took her place on the haunting chair. She could feel every eye on the court burning into her; _judging_ her. She clasped her hands in her lap, and focused on the witch who would be questioning her, trying to imagine that there was no one else in the court staring at her.

"Luna Lovegood, we are aware of the unorthodox situation which brought yourself and Bartemius Crouch Junior together," the old witch started. "You are aware that it was an Unbreakable Curse which seemed to force you to live with Mr Crouch. However, you are unaware, that since you were reprimanded to St. Mungo's, the Ministry discovered Mr Xenophilius Lovegood, and our Curse Breakers took the liberty of removing the vow from him, rendering neither you or your father tethered to Mr Crouch."

Luna breathed out in relief. She didn't know how the Ministry had managed to remove the vow, but it didn't matter. Her father was safe.

The old witch went on. "I must ask you, Miss Lovegood. Before now, you were sentenced to live with Mr Crouch because of the fear of what would happen to your father if you did not. Now that the vow has been removed, would you return to Barty's house with him, if you were given the opportunity?"

Luna glanced around the court before answering. She took in the steely, pursed-lipped faces of the Wizengamot; the apologetic expressions that Neville, Doctor Babar and his assistant wore; and Neville—poor Neville, whose parents lost their sanity at Barty's hands. But this was _her_ life, and that life of Barty's seemed like a lifetime ago. Things were different now. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and nodded.

"Miss Lovegood, did Mr Crouch ever put you in any danger while you were living with him?"

A sudden flash of a palm slicing across her cheek blinding her vision; plates shattering against the cupboard doors, his fingers gripping her throat. "H-he was unstable. But I was helping him get better."

The old witch tightened her lips, before rectifying her question. "Did Mr Crouch ever cause you any _physical_ harm, Miss Lovegood?"

Luna couldn't tell them. Him slapping her might only seem like a small, minor detail to her now, but the court would no doubt blow it out of proportion. "No," she replied curtly. "Never."

"As Mr Crouch's primary carer, what are your views on what should happen after the court is concluded?"

"I agree with Doctor Babar. I think Barty should go to hospital."

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood." The old witch left her position at the podium, and Kingsley took her place once again. Luna jumped from her seat and hurried back up to her seat beside Neville.

This time, there was no ten minute waiting period. Kingsley clapped his hands sharply, and the iron doors swung open once again, allowing the Dementors to return with Barty in tow, and thrust him into the central seat.

Kingsley turned to face the Wizengamot. "I call upon the Wizengamot alone, now," he addressed in a loud, clear voice. "If you judge that Mr Crouch should be returned to Azkaban, please raise your right hand now."

Slowly, hands began to rise into the air. Luna's heart sank—she couldn't count the amount of hands, but there was a sheer amount of them. Deciding that she couldn't watch anymore, she pressed her face into Neville's shoulder, trying to choke back oncoming tears.

"If you judge that Mr Crouch should be sectioned to the Psychiatric Unit run by Doctor Babar, please raise your left hand."

Luna kept her face hidden. She couldn't bear to even sneak a glimpse. Tears were beginning to fill her eyes, and her lip shuddered as Kingsley rapped his gavel on the podium. This was it. He was going back to Azkaban.

"The court has spoken," Kingsley's voice boomed through the room. Mr Crouch will be taken to the Psychiatric Unit immediately, as run by Doctor Babar, where he will be sectioned until Doctor Babar sees fit."

Luna jerked her head towards Kinglsey, unable to believe her ears.

Barty wasn't going to Azkaban.

He was going to be _safe_.

oOo

 _10_ _th_ _January, 2000  
_ _Rita's Corner_

 _Today's Squeeze_ : _The Failed Incarceration of Crouch Jr!_

 _Well, I must say that I was personally extremely disappointed to discover that one of You-Know-Who's most loyal followers was not thrown back into Azkaban where he belongs! I was sure that the Wizengamot would no doubt want to return Crouch Jr to his old cell, but it seems my thoughts_ — _and the thoughts of my rabid readers_ — _were quite wrong._

 _I was lucky enough to have front-row seats at the trial, with my Quick Quotes Quill poised, while the witnesses assumed position in front of the court. The shivering, wobbly outline of the overweight shopkeeper Francessa Morgan_ — _who prefers the title 'Madam'_ — _was the first to sit down in front of the court. She presented as very peaky faced and bitterly shaken by her encounter with a dangerous criminal. Stamford Jorkins was second to sit down, though his ramblings of dull work life with Crouch failed to capture anyone's attention. I was more intrigued to see that failed Healer, Babar, had actually been invited to sit in front of the Wizengamot._

 _The last person to enter the court was the poor, visibly shaken Luna Lovegood, who has no doubt suffered a tremendously traumatic ordeal at the hands of Crouch Jr. She was accompanied by boyfriend Neville Longbottom, who also greatly understands pain that Crouch Jr has inflicted. Older readers may remember that Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom were tortured into insanity by Crouch Jr and his accomplices, so my heart was truly swelling with pain for the two young lovers as they entered the court._

 _Most of the trial was fairly uneventful. Minister Shacklebolt led the trial as the witnesses were called forwards in turn. "Doctor" Babar was frightfully persuasive, rattling on about the Ministry being solely responsible for Crouch Jr's rampant actions_ — _imagine! I am sure that my readers will agree that Babar needs a serious rethink of his occupation as a health official, or at least perhaps a long-term stay in the Psychiatric Unit that he was so keen to take Crouch Jr to._

 _The air did noticeably still when Luna Lovegood took centre stage. She was clearly upset, and told the court about what a dangerous, frightfully unstable individual Crouch Jr is, and a desperate need to see him incarcerated._

 _However, by some odd twist of fate, the Wizengamot appeared to pity Crouch Jr, and saw fit to allow him an undeserving chance at retribution. I look forward to eagerly reading your responses on this subject, as I can honestly dispute that this is the worst thing that the Wizarding World could have allowed since..._

Luna screwed up the newspaper she was reading from as Rita Skeeter's words echoed around her head, and threw it over towards the recycling bin a few metres away. She missed, but no one seemed to notice.

She knew from the moment she spotted Rita Skeeter in the court, that she would write some ridiculous drivel, but Luna couldn't believe how much further from the truth she actually was. She couldn't understand how the public would believe any of this—but of course they would. They drank in any kind of ridiculous story like this, and that was probably the only reason that Rita kept her job as a journalist.

Luna was sat in the waiting room of the Psychiatric Unit that Barty had been reprimanded to. She wasn't entirely sure _what_ to expect—Hermione had once told her and Ginny stories of the old Muggle asylums, where they kept patients locked up in padded rooms and fastened up in odd jackets with buckles around the back. Surely Doctor Babar wouldn't want Barty to stay in such a horrible place?

After what seemed like hours, the red-lipped receptionist finally called out Luna's name. With a toothy smile, she ordered Luna to write her name and the patient she was visiting on a form, and then led her down a corridor.

At the end of the corridor, the receptionist rapped on a door with her bony knuckles, and it swung open immediately. Doctor Babar stood there, beaming at Luna and effectively dismissing the receptionist. "Luna! Glad you could make it," he greeted. "Barty has been asking about you every day. Shall we?" he gestured to his office.

"Oh, aren't we going to see Barty?" Luna questioned, raising her eyebrow in the direction of the office. She didn't want to _talk_ to Healers or officials or _anyone_ anymore. She just wanted to see Barty.

"Of course. By Floo Network," Babar nodded towards the fireplace in his office. "There are no normal entrances to the ICU, to prevent any potential escapes."

"ICU?"

"Intensive Care Unit. Come along, we'll go down together." Doctor Babar stepped into the fireplace, and Luna squeezed in beside him.

A flash of green light later, and Luna and Doctor Babar were standing in another office which mirrored the one that the receptionist had taken her to. For a moment, Luna didn't think that they had travelled at all, if it wasn't for Doctor Babar ushering her forward.

He rapped his wand three times on the door in the office, and then pushed it open. The corridor beyond the door was wide and airy, with huge windows that let in a lot of natural light—very different from the scene that Luna had originally envisioned. There were several glass doors leading off the corridor into various other rooms, and Luna could hear laughter, chatter, and music playing faintly.

The door that Doctor Babar took her to led to another corridor, and then another. "These are the male sleeping rooms," he told her as they walked quietly. "Generally, we're supposed to use any of the communal rooms for visitation, but I thought you are entitled to some privacy. Most of the other patients are well aware of Barty's situation, so they would naturally be interested to see who was visiting him." He knocked on a wooden door with Barty's name written on a plaque, and then nodded to Luna. "I'm going to head off now, but I'll be in the Healer's Ward at the end of the corridor if you need anything." Before Luna could respond, Doctor Babar had scurried down to the other end of the corridor.

She turned back to the door, and swallowed before reaching for the handle. She pushed it open and walked into the room.

It was a dainty little bedroom. There was a window on one wall, with thick glass overlooking a very green garden, and a single bed beneath it. The maroon sheets on the bed had been made sharply, as though the duvet had been pressed and ironed while they were being tucked into the mattress. A stack of shelves was beside the door, harbouring a pile of neatly folded clothes. Luna plucked a grey t-shirt from the top of the pile and pressed it to her face, inhaling deeply.

Carefully, she folded the shirt back up and placed it back on the shelf, and then sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. Something on the bedside table caught her eye, and she reached over for it—it was a photograph of her. The photo that was taken in her seventh year, to be precise.

Luna looked down at herself; at her wide grey eyes beaming out of the frame dramatically, and the way she fidgeted with a long strand of her hair occasionally. The girl in the photograph had no idea what would happen to her. Luna dropped the photograph back on the bedside table, and sighed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused Luna's head to jerk towards the door. Barty stood in the doorway, looking completely different to the shadow of the man that she had seen in front of the Wizengamot. His hair was washed and framed his face softly, his face was cleanly shaven, and he was wearing a grey t-shirt and blue jeans.

He practically hurled himself at Luna, and she jumped up from the bed to greet him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, burying his face in her neck as he twirled her around. Her feet touched the ground again, and she looked up at Barty, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. "Barty...I—" she was cut off as Barty kissed her suddenly, his hands gliding across her cheeks and into her hair. She kissed him back, tasting spearmint toothpaste—she couldn't believe how long it had been since she last touched him, kissed him...

"I'm so sorry," he murmured into her mouth between kisses.

"I'm sorry too," she breathed. "I'm sorry Rolf tried to kiss me...I'm sorry everything went so weird..." they kissed deeply one more time, before sitting down side by side on the bed.

"I can't stay for long," Luna told him, leaning against his shoulder. She took his hand between hers, running her fingers along his knuckles. "I'll come visit you though." She was due a visit to St. Mungo's in less than an hour to have a maternity scan, but she wanted to keep the idea of those two tiny babies at the very back of her mind, at least for now.

Luna had planned to tell him about her pregnancy immediately. She didn't want any more secrets from him, especially not now that he was going to be staying in hospital and she would be without him. But after seeing him, seeing that he was already visibly improving after just a few days in the hospital, she couldn't get the words out.

"Promise you'll come back?" he whispered, his brown eyes burning into hers.

"Of course I will," she assured him. "I'll wait for you. No matter how long it takes for you to get out of here—I'll wait for you, and we'll go back and live in your house in London, and everything will be fine."

"I love you, Luna," he whispered. "I'm sorry for everything I di—"

"—shh," Luna interrupted him, before pressing another soft kiss to his mouth. "I'll see you soon." She stood up from the bed, and smiled at him before leaving the room.

As she walked down the corridor, back towards the office that would guarantee her way out, her thoughts fell to her future. She clutched her stomach, thinking of the two twin hearts that were beating within her.

She would wait for him.

She would _always_ wait for him.

* * *

 **A.N:** Thanks to everyone who has stayed with me until the end of the Unfixables! This is not the end. The second novel to this book, "The Unbreakables" is already in the works. You can expect the first chapter of that to be published sometime in the month of September. Please leave your thoughts and opinions on the story below!


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